I'll stay in the darkness with you
by PresidentTheAwesome
Summary: Liz and Sherlock's life in 221b, starting with John moving in. Three guesses who keeps leaving the mysterious messages. If there were a third genre it would probably be romance. SHERLOCK/OC
1. Chapter 1

**First Sherlock story. This ideas been in my head for a few days, just thought I'd give it a go. Sherlock/OC because personally I don't like the idea of Sherlock/Molly or any other. **

_**I don't own Sherlock.**_

When John Watson agreed to share a flat with Sherlock Holmes he assumed they would be the only two occupants of 221b Baker Street – besides Mrs Hudson of course. Mainly because he assumed the tall detective needed a flat mate to assist in paying the rent, thus lived alone. That's why when the doctor entered the flat, leaning heavily on his stick with a briefcase tucked under his opposing arm; he was shocked to find another occupant reclining comfortably in the far chair, legs stretched out infront of her, reading a newspaper that looked to be about three times the average size of a normal paper.

''Uhm, hello'' John said uncertainly, dropping his bag.

The woman lowered the newspaper and peered over the top. She was quite attractive, probably around thirty years old. Dark green eyes framed by long, thick lashes. Her hair was dark blonde/brown, although not nearly as dark as Sherlock's and hung loosely curly, mid length, framing her face nicely. She was wearing a grey high-waisted pencil skirt with a white blouse. Black tights and black high heels.

''Ah, you must be Doctor Watson'' she said, putting down her paper to shake his hand. Stood up, she could have only been about 5'5, just about coming slightly taller than John's shoulder – probably shorter due to her high heels.

''Uhm, yes, sorry, I didn't know you lived here'' he shook her hand firmly

''Hm. Forget to mention me did he? He tends to do that''

John looked confused.

''I don't follow''

Just then Sherlock bounded into the room, letting the door slam behind him. He took in a brief glance at his new flatmate before realising he had not introduced them. ''Oh, John this is Liz. Liz, John'' Then he took in Liz's appearance and noticed that she was not expected home for another couple of hours, ''shouldn't you be at work?''

''Yes I should but I told you, I don't like it''

Sherlock's jaw set and he let out a huff.

''At least one of us needs to hold down a job, you could at least _try_ not to get sacked'' he flounced over to the sofa, picking up the recently vacated newspaper and began flicking through it idly.

''I do not 'try' to get sacked-,''

''Well you certainly don't try that's all I'm saying'' he flipped another page, nothing interesting – adverts, missing dog, window cleaning service, takeaway phone numbers, care hire, bicycle parts for sale. Boring.

''Am I missing something here?'' John spoke up causing the two to look at him indifferently.

Liz shrugged, ''I got fired'' as though it was justified explanation enough.

''_Again_'' Sherlock added, not taking his eyes of the paper.

Liz flopped down beside him on the couch, kicking her shoes off and allowing her head to fall on the back rest. ''It's not as though you've got a paid job is it?''

John sunk down into one of the armchairs, looking around the flat as the two bickered. It was cosy, cluttered but it had a homely feel to it, it felt lived in already and welcoming – nothing like the pokey little thing he had been living in previously.

A threadbare rug, violin, books (lots of books) A few boxes still littered the floor, most of them labelled 'more books' or 'do not touch' smiling to himself he observed the fireplace, wood, grand, antique? With a large mirror above it. It was then that he noticed something that looked like a skull perched on the end of the mantelpiece. _Bloody hell._

Upon meeting Sherlock Holmes, he got the impression that he was a distant character, if a little haughty in his demeanour, although looking at him now, in the flat, he did still have an air of arrogance about him that the Doctor supposed was just, well, Sherlock but he seemed less tense. His body language was just more visibly relaxed. Even if him and Liz were currently participating in a tennis match of name tossing.

After much insulting and slandering, Liz finally hurled herself of the couch, a faint smile tugging her lipstick painted lips and muttering 'prick' before heading into what John assumed to be her bedroom, leaving an all too smug looking Sherlock on the couch, still engrossed in whatever was is the paper.

''Well that was a bit… awkward'' John said, pointlessly tapping on the chair arm as he did so

''Not in the slightest''

''Well you did just practically verbally abuse each other for about twenty minutes whilst I was sat here like a lemon and then she stormed off into her room. Does make me feel a little uncomfortable, yes. Does that happen often?''

''_Our _''

''What?''

Sherlock finally pulled his gaze away from the paper and folded it in half, ''you said 'her' room, but it's my room as well''

''Oh'' Realisation suddenly dawned on John's face, ''OH sorry. You didn't say you two were, uhm…''

''Didn't I mention? Liz is my wife''

''Your _wife_?'' John gawked, ''I didn't even know you even liked her''

''Just because we're married doesn't mean we have to _like_ each other John'' With that Sherlock pulled himself off the couch and headed towards the kitchen.

* * *

><p>Living with Sherlock and Liz had its ups and downs. First off, Sherlock liked to play his violin at three o'clock in the morning and shoot holes in the wall at all kinds of ungodly hours. Liz liked staying out in the evenings and rolling in at whatever time suited her (not that she was a part goer, definitely not. It was the quiet bars she liked) which lead him to realise that Liz liked to drink. He quickly found out that she was mostly partial to whiskey.<p>

They never did the shopping; when John first moved in he looked in the fridge and found a decapitated head residing in the section where the frozen veg ought to be. Mrs Hudson said it wasn't unusual and that she had found human body parts swimming in the bath once, apparently you just get used to it.

Out of the three of them, Sherlock was the one with the job – which he 'invented' Liz said employment didn't suit her and preferred to stay at home. John had had a few interviews for different things; none of them had gone to well so far, he thought he might try out the local GP, his army medical training ought to come in useful there surely.

* * *

><p>Three months later, he came to realise that Liz's drinking was more of a drink <em>problem <em>than an occasional habit. The cupboard under the sink unit was always well stocked with booze and the recycling bin was often filled with nothing but bottles.

It made her moody as well. He was sure she could start an argument with herself locked in a drawing room.

Sherlock just seemed to take it as it came, one night John came home from a date with Sarah (a girl he'd met at his _new _job) to find them both arguing pretty badly. In the end, Sherlock had thrown her over his shoulder and forced her to go to bed.

Tonight John decided to talk to Sherlock about his wife's… Issue. He was a doctor; if he could get a little background info then he might be able to help. Only last week she had tripped in the flat, resulting in nothing but a nasty cut on her forehead – it could have been much worse.

''Sherlock, I was, uhm, wondering if, umm, about Liz'' John began hesitantly but was cut off by the detective talking over him in that monotone voice as his stares at the laptop, eyes unblinking as he searches the screen.

''Liz likes to drink and before you say, yes she does know she has a problem''

''Right'' _that's a start_, he thought, '' well, I was thinking-,''

''I know what you were thinking, you were thinking that if you could find out some more about her past then you could trace it back, perhaps as far as her childhood. Something that triggered it off in the hopes that you could find a solution and help cure her of her alcoholism'' John stared at him, mouth dropping open; he never failed to be amazed when this man knew what you were thinking even before you said it out loud. ''I can tell you know she won't stop easily, when we first met she was a heavy drinker even then'' Sherlock closed the laptop with a snap before placing it down on the table by the window. ''and close your mouth, you'll let flies in''

John snapped his mouth shut, realising that he had been sat there, gaping like a fish.

''I'm not saying I can 'cure' her as such, but I think I can help. Is there anything, anything at all that you know of that might have caused her to, err, want to, uhm, _forget_ maybe? Aside from, you know, cut up fingers in the sink '' he tried to joke and Sherlock smiled slightly, sitting in the arm chair opposite John, one leg thrown over the other haphazardly and his fingertips lightly pressed together with his 'thinking face' on.

John could practically hear the cogs working together in the genius' mind as he tapped his fingertips together before speaking, ''When I met her, it was in a bar'' he began, ''She hated me at first, young twenty-two year old drowning her sorrows in a glass of gin. That's Elizabeth written all over'' he allowed himself a quiet chuckle at the memory. ''she was a journalist at the time, a beginner. Moved out of the family home and lived with her boyfriend, Lee he was called – terrible temper, he liked to drink too''

John leant back in the chair and prepared himself for what was going to be a long discussion about Liz's past, listening carefully as Sherlock told him how she had once gone to work with a split lip because Lee had hit her and when asked about it she simply said they'd gotten into a fight resulting in her 'falling' down the stairs. John couldn't believe it; Liz didn't take shit from anyone least of all some drunkard who thought he was clever hitting women.

''After a while the agency she worked for fired her shortly after her parents were killed in a traffic collision. She didn't have any money and decided to stay with Lee in their flat'' The story continued and John was still shocked at the things his friend was telling him. Sherlock didn't know about Liz's abusive partner until she came to work at Scotland Yard, he noticed her severe weight loss and coy behaviour and how one day she collapsed in her office after what Sherlock believed was the result in her being beaten black and blue the previous night. The hospital had confirmed her to have bruised and suspected cracked ribs, that was then the truth came out.

''Liz can't have children'' Sherlock spoke solemnly and John let out a faint sigh, still not coming to terms with what this woman – a women who he lives with and has come to be friends with went through, ''although it's just as well, neither of us want children. Liz hasn't got a maternal bone in her body'' Sherlock let out a shaky laugh, ''anyway, after a few months Lee was sentenced and went missing. Suicide apparently, although a body was never found. Liz never let me investigate and I didn't want to push the matter'' he stared at something past John's shoulder, eyes glazed over ''it wasn't long until I realised I might actually love her''

John was taken aback at this intimate information his friend had shared, of course he knew they must love each other, really. They may fight like cat and dog but they're married for crying out loud. They're just very private people; don't show that much affection towards one another. Anyone in the outside world would think they were merely acquaintances. Sherlock explained that two years after her partners 'death', they had moved in together and shortly after gotten married.

John listened carefully to every word, not wanting to interrupt as so far this was the only time his friend had opened up so easily about something so personal and he was sure it wouldn't be happening again anytime soon.

The silence was suddenly broken by the front door slamming shut, followed by thumping footsteps on the stairs. Sherlock twisted round in his chair and grabbed his violin, starting to play a fast tune and John knew the conversation was over.

* * *

><p>''What the bloody hell happened?'' John dropped the shopping bags and hurried over to where Liz was lying across the sofa, face down with her limbs spread out in a way that could hardly be called comfortable.<p>

''Don't worry, she does that from time to time'' Sherlock explained coherently from his position at the kitchen island, nose buried in a telescope, ''she'll wake up in a few hours''

''Where's she been, I thought she was trying to cut down''

Sherlock spared him a glance, ''went out last night for a few, what did she say? Oh yes; 'quiet drinks'. Didn't come home last night, I just found her there this morning''

''Well, have you checked she's alright?''

''Yes, yes. She's fine'' Sherlock waved off and sure enough, two hours later she woke up with a pounding headache and aspirin being shoved infront of her face by her husband.

* * *

><p>Liz went a month without alcohol with the help of John.<p>

* * *

><p>She was three weeks late.<p>

_Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. _

Elizabeth hurried (as non-suspiciously as possible) around the flat in search of her dairy. Sherlock paid no attention as she turned over cushions and upset papers all over the desk in search of the infuriating book.

''It's in the kitchen, underneath the jar of teeth'' he was lay on his back, staring at the ceiling in his pyjamas. Twiddling his thumbs idly. John was at work and he hadn't had a case for nearly a month. Everyone just seemed to be keeping alive. Boring. Most days he composed with his violin but even that had started to get slightly tedious day in, day out and Liz had taken his gun away claiming the noise was making her brain bang against the inside of her skull. There was nothing to do, Liz even had a new job which meant that he was in the flat by himself all day – well aside from Mrs Hudson…

Elizabeth finally found her diary and flipped through the pages rapidly until she found what she was looking for. Yep, nearly four weeks late. _Shit._

She grabbed her keys and bag and flew down the stairs, not bothering to say goodbye to Sherlock, only that she was off to work, which wasn't a lie. She was, but also suddenly felt the need for fresh air.

* * *

><p>A trip to the doctors had confirmed her suspicions. The impossible had become certain – She was pregnant.<p>

A baby... Bloody hell. She was told she'd never be able to have children, Lee had seen to that. He kicked her in the stomach so hard she passed out. She couldn't remember what happened much on that day. Only that the hospital had told her that she would never bear children, it didn't bother her.

She wouldn't keep it of course – she couldn't. She liked their life the way it was, nothing tying them down. And anyway, it's not as though it would even be wanted. Both Sherlock and Elizabeth had made it clear they didn't want mini versions of themselves running around the place and that suited them just fine. So she planned to have an abortion.

And a week later that's just what she did.

On her way home she stopped by the supermarket. She's been advised not to drink and sure, she had been doing well but now she needed it. There was so much stuff going through her mind she was trying not to think about…

Even though she didn't regret her decision on bit, she didn't tell Sherlock. Not on the off chance he _might_ have changed his mind. No, she didn't risk it.

The door of 221b Baker Street closed behind her as she climbed the stairs wearily, her body was tired and she wanted nothing more than to sit in the comfy arm chair and nurse a glass off whiskey, allowing the amber liquid to sooth and chase away her thoughts, just for a while.

The flat was dark, which was not unusual. Sherlock often sat in darkness for lengthy periods of time.

Liz dumped the Tesco bag on the counter, making the contents clang together noisily before unscrewing one of the bottles.

''Hello Elizabeth'' Liz turned her head to the source of the voice; there was only one person who called her by her full first name.

''Mycroft'' she nodded curtly, taking in the eldest Holmes brother with distaste. He was stood by the fireplace holding his customary umbrella in one hand and a large, brown envelope in the other ''to what do I owe this pleasure''

He remained silent and watched as she downed the first glass before slamming it back down on the counter to re-fill it sloppily ''Do you think it wise, a woman in your condition'' he motioned to the Jack Daniels in her hand with his umbrella.

''I don't know what you mean'' she said coolly, ''besides, I hardly think it's any of your concern what I do''

He continued to watch her as she shrugged off her coat and hung it on the door. Elizabeth had never really cared for Mycroft Holmes, who does? But they had got on fairly well in the past so he wasn't all bad, she supposed. Didn't mean she had to like him.

''Is there a particular reason why your hear Mycroft?'' She walked over to the arm chair, stepping out of her shoes as she went, leaving them behind her on the floor before she dropped into the chair, curling her legs beneath her and taking another sip of her drink.

''I just popped by to give you these, I know what you've done Elizabeth'' he said darkly, dropping the envelope on the desk.

''What are those?''

''Your medical records''

* * *

><p><strong>Please leave a comment, I would like to continue with this as I was going to write it all together but decided it would have been too long :)<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

_**I don't own Sherlock.**_

Liz's eyes widened as her brother-in-law left the envelope on the desk and headed for the door.

''Send Sherlock my regards'' Mycroft shut the door behind him, the only noise in the entire flat was his heavy footfalls on the stairs.

He knew. Of course he knew, he's Mycroft Holmes. Liz drank the rest of her drink quickly, chucking it to the back of her throat, savouring the burn of it sliding down her oesophagus.

What did he bring it here for? A warning? Disapproval? Blackmail? It wasn't as though she could change things even if she wanted to.

She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, feeling tired and her stomach cramped painfully so she decided on taking a long, hot bath. To be honest, Liz was stumped. She was able to get pregnant so they would have to be more careful from now on and she wasn't sure exactly how she was going to do so and keep it a secret from her husband, after all they'd never had to use protection before…

* * *

><p>Later that night, Liz burned the medical records without a second thought.<p>

* * *

><p>''Are you alright?''<p>

''What'' Liz's head snapped up in the direction of her husband's voice, he was over at the table, once again poking and prodding at something slimy in a petri dish. For some reason she couldn't stop thinking of Mycroft and the brown envelope, even after a week she couldn't get it out of her head which was unusual as she didn't allow anything to bother her – Ever.

''I said, 'are you alright' at least four times now. Is something bothering you?'' Did he really need to ask, she didn't doubt he already knew something was on her mind and would most likely be able to figure it out given the motivation.

''Ooh, you care'' she teased but immediately sobered at the serious look on his face, ''I'm fine, why shouldn't I be?''

And he starts.

''Well, aside from the fact you've not eaten a solid meal properly in weeks, been skiving off work without a proper reason – yes, I do know about that, John told me he sees you in-,''

''Oh for fu-,''

''– And staring into space whilst doing that thing you do with your thumbs''

''What thing?''

''You've hardly spoke to me since last Tuesday or even let me touch you for that matter'' he added the end bit a tad sulkily. ''I'd say there was something on your mind you're either keeping from me or would rather not think about or maybe even both. Its only for the sake of your privacy, I haven't-,''

''Stop it!'' Liz yelled and he immediately shut up. She was annoyed at his knack for noticing little things and making them into something he swears is blatantly obvious. ''Just, stop''

Without a second glace, Elizabeth swept past the kitchen (ignoring a bemused looking Sherlock) and down the stairs, taking extra care to slam the door on the way out.

* * *

><p>The next morning day Elizabeth received a blank envelope with a copy of her medical record inside. This wasn't Mycroft, it wasn't his style.<p>

Inside the envelope were the words: _I know. x_

* * *

><p>Two weeks later and Liz was still receiving anonymous messages, whether she was at home or work – and not just by letter. She received text messages, e-mails and even a 'Happy Birthday' card. She got rid of them all though, she didn't need John or Sherlock or even Mrs Hudson finding out she was being threatened.<p>

Was she even being threatened? Each message never actually asked anything from her; it just stated the same thing in different ways. It put her on edge; every time her phone buzzed she would almost jump a mile.

On the plus side though, she didn't drink as much. But she supposed that was because she wasn't eating nearly enough and so the alcohol had a faster effect on her – still, it was a slight improvement according to John, as long as she ate regularly. And in-between trying to hold her nerve, keeping the secret messages a secret from her husband and John, making sure her drinking was under control and just worrying; she had managed to hold down her job longer than she had done in years.

* * *

><p>He looked at her intently. After almost five weeks of zero sex, Sherlock decided to take it upon himself to do something about it. Over the past month she'd kept herself to herself and it was really starting to worry him.<p>

She managed a small smile even though she felt like sobbing. _What was wrong with her?_ She'd never felt her emotions get like this before, not ever and she didn't like it. She didn't like not being in control.

After a few moments of staring each other out in the bedroom, Sherlock finally made the first move and stepped over to her, holding her upper arms firmly and taking in her vacant expression.

She was gaunt.

Her skin was pale if a tad blotchy, cheek bones hollowed and more prominent due to how sunken and they had become. Curly dark blonde hair that was normally prim and proper was tied up hastily in a ponytail, and her pyjamas practically hung off her frame.

He pulled her into his body and she was momentarily shocked at the open display of affection, they never got touchy feely, not really – unless you counted intimately. Wrapping his arms around her, he noticed just how tiny she felt in his arms.

It took her a moment before she returned the embrace. Slinking her arms round his middle and squeezing him tightly. They remained that way for a while, simply breathing each other in, in the first real physical contact they'd had in weeks and then she felt Sherlock stiffen in her arms. Liz looked down between them. _Oh._

How long had it actually been? Too long.

Before she knew it, Sherlock had lowered his lips to her neck. It was slow and he was gentle, she could tell he was holding back – waiting for any signs of her reluctance and for what? She being scared of getting pregnant?

''Are you going to tell me what's wrong?'' his voice muffled by her skin,

Liz held her breath when his tongue flicked over the underside of her jaw and she became dimly aware of his hardness, hot and heavy against her stomach.

''Stop talking'' and she _felt_ the smug grin pressed into her skin. Did he always have to speak at times like this?

Liz pulled him with her towards their bed, un tucking his shirt tails as she did. They both fell on the mattress with a soft 'oof'. Sherlock nudged her legs apart to accommodate him and his hands slid to her waist, holding her close while he placed feathery kisses on the crook of her shoulder.

_Too slow. _

Elizabeth suddenly began popping his shirt buttons open quickly, desperate to feel the warmth of his skin against her and Sherlock helped before dropping his hands back to her waist, leaving his shirt open.

Then he kissed her.

He fingered the sash of her cotton dressing gown before un tying it and letting his fingers splay over the soft material underneath. A blush crept up Liz's neck (had it really been that long?) and she let out an involuntary chuckle as his fingers trailed up her sides, taking the hem of her pyjama camisole with him.

Sherlock lifted the garment over her head and tossed it somewhere next to them.

He began kissing his way down from her ear, the smooth skin of her neck, shoulder, clavicle, sternum… then stopped. He lifted his head away from her chest and looked down – stunned.

Liz sensed him tense before she opened her eyes, ''Sherlock?''

He wasn't prepared for the sight before him. He knew of course she'd lost weight and he should have noticed just how severely but in all honesty he'd not seen her in less than a bath towel in _weeks_, she was practically skeletal.

He moved a hand lightly up her stomach and over her sunken ribs, mouth agape. ''Liz…'' He didn't know what to say.

Her stomach dipped horrifyingly inwards making her hips jut out, like the props holding up a collapsed canvas and she shifted beneath him, suddenly uncomfortable under his gaze. She couldn't remember the last time she had an appetite or even ate more than an apple. ''It's not as bad as it seems'' she tried.

Sherlock strummed his thumb over her ribcage gently.

''Why?'' he bit out, more harshly than he intended.

Inwardly, Liz grimaced. She didn't want to lie to him, but she could hardly face telling the truth. ''I've had a lot on my mind''

''Tell me''

She looked down and fiddled with one of the buttons on his shirt, ''I can't…''

''Elizabeth'' he warned.

She sat up, sliding a hand up his chest to the back of his neck and tugged him closer, ''please'' she whispered, attempting to draw his attention back to what they were doing. She kissed him softly, willing him to respond but Sherlock remained still.

''If you really wanted to know, you could have figured it out'' she huffed.

''I want you to tell me'' he glanced down again, taking in her appearance and he felt sick with himself. Annoyed for not noticing sooner. ''look at you… It's not healthy Liz''

Liz couldn't bare it anymore, the way he was eyeing her with a look of guilt and… disgust? Really bothered her. She dropped her hands from his neck and pulled back, suddenly more conscious of her ghoulish state and forcing him to sit up. ''Sorry you find me so repulsive''

She quickly reached for her pyjama camisole and slipped it on hurriedly, not wanting to inconvenience him with looking at her any more than she already had.

''I'm not repulsed. It's a shock''

''Well don't force yourself to sleep with me will you. Wouldn't want to 'shock' you any further'' she stood and pulled on her dressing gown, tying the sash hastily.

Sherlock frowned, troubled and slightly frustrated for the state she had allowed herself to get in and then got even more irritated with himself then he already was for not realising god damn sooner – they shared the same bed for crying out loud.

''I do worry about you, you know''

''Don't put yourself out'' – _because I don't deserve it' _echoed in her mind, before she brushed out of their room and into the kitchen for something strong to drink – pushing past a confused looking John carrying the shopping along the way.

* * *

><p>''I'm getting the slightest impression that Liz is angry with you'' John said, sitting across from a stony faced Sherlock as they sat at the table eating takeaway Chinese.<p>

''It would appear so, yes''

''Are you going to elaborate or not?''

''Not''

''…Right'' John sighed, ''you can talk to me you know''

''I know''

''Then what's wrong because it makes sharing a flat with you two pretty awkward''

''I just told you, for once your deductions were correct but I chose not to elaborate''

John gave up. That was the most he was going to get out of Sherlock, for now anyway.

* * *

><p><em>Tell him – Or I will. x<em>

Sherlock stared at the words, his brain ticking over a thousand different possibilities at once. Written on ordinary enough card bought from the local florist along with the red roses and written in fine, black fountain pen. With a _kiss_ on the end.

No obvious occasion that anyone would really know, it wasn't her birthday, anniversary or any other kind of event that would require flowers.

And tell him, tell him what exactly? It was obviously him, whoever it was, was talking about. Mrs Hudson said that they were brought by the delivery man addressed to 'Mrs E. Holmes'

* * *

><p><strong>Review? :)<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Up to now I think this is my least favourite chapter but please leave a comment and tell me what you think? Thankyou to those who have reviewed/favourite/alerted. :)**

_**I don't own Sherlock.**_

Sherlock kept quiet about the seeing the message attached to the roses. If she planned on telling him, then she would. But of course, she never did.

* * *

><p><em>Flashback.<em>

''Secret admirer?''

''What?''

''Your flowers''

''Oh right. I don't know – anonymous'' she turned round and gave him a smug look, ''why, are you jealous?''

''Course not,'' Sherlock assured, ''just curious''

John snorted.

* * *

><p>Elizabeth was at work when she received another message, an e-mail: <em>Tick tock Lizzie. x<em>

She packed her things up quickly and headed back to Baker Street.

Whoever it was wasn't giving up anytime soon.

* * *

><p>''I thought I'd order takeaway tonight'' John said, flipping through one of the Chinese menus that got pushed through the letterbox.<p>

''Yeah fine''

''Or I can try cooking if you like?''

''Whatever''

''But-,''

Liz huffed from where she was lay on the sofa, ''look, to be honest John, I'm not in the least bit hungry. Get whatever you like''

''Liz…'' John put down the menu and leant forward, elbows on his knees, ''if there's something you want to talk about… He is worried about you, you know and I am a doctor'' he watched her as she rolled her eyes, ''and your friend. I worry about you to''

She twisted round on the sofa, toying with the thought of just telling him. Relieving some of the weight she carried on her shoulders then at least one other person knew who she could trust, she wouldn't be alone. But then he was Sherlock's friend as well, she couldn't expect him to keep something like this from him.

This was all Mycroft's fault. Somehow, someone who didn't like her very much had gotten hold of those records and were now threatening to use them if she didn't spill the beans.

And he didn't return her calls.

Oh how she could just _strangle_ that man.

''No, I'm fine'' John looked disappointed but she had to fix this herself, ''thankyou'' she added sincerely.

''Okay. But there's _something_ you're not letting on. Now I don't know how long you think you can keep it from him but he knows something's not right and he _will_ get to the bottom of it'' he got up out of the arm chair to reach his phone off the mantelpiece, ''but please, for all our sakes. Sort it out soon and I'm ordering you a takeaway anyway so don't sulk about it''

''John''

''What?''

''Shut up''

''Yeah, thought I may have pushed it a little with the last bit'' John laughed.

* * *

><p>[1 text message] – <em>Did you like my flowers? X<em>

Liz stared at the text. It was Sunday, and she was in the middle of doing nothing only stare a hole in the wall when her phone buzzed.

She was bored but feeling brave, so she replied – _I prefer Tulips. Who is this? _

Not a minute later and her phone buzzed again – _Oh, don't I get a kiss? I'll bare that in mind, and you've heard of me honey. x_

She was disappointed by the reply but didn't really expect much different – _Ooh, playing games are we? Well, sorry, I don't play ball. How did you get hold of those records? _

- _Did you really need to ask, your brother-in-law comes in very handy. You ought to be careful what company you keep and if you really want my hospitality you should be more polite. Xx_

Getting frustrated and cursing Mycroft, she replied – _What do you want from me? – _with a rather violent 'X' at the end.

_- Oh so I do get a kiss, lovely. And I think I've made it quite clear what I want you to do sweetheart. Inevitably I want you to __destroy_ _Sherlock Holmes. xx _

_- What makes you think I would ever agree to that?_ – But she already knew the answer. He knew about her abortion and what's worse, he could prove it. When he didn't reply, she rolled her eyes and sent a separate message: - '_x' _after not putting it on the end of the previous one.

- _Thankyou, see? Kissing can get you anywhere. And h__aven't you worked out who I am yet? I'm disappointed. xx – _Liz started at the screen, fingers hovering over the buttons.

_- No I haven't, why don't you indulge me? x _

She waited patiently for the stranger to reply, of course it was only a few moments before she was opening a text message that read – _My, my, we are impatient. Does your husband know you flirt with random strangers over text message? – Jim Moriarty. Xxx_

* * *

><p>She'd heard that name. Sherlock had told her all about Mr Moriarty before.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Please leave your message after the tone. *Beep* <em>''Mycroft when you get this message, can you please answer your bloody phone!''

She slammed the receiver back on the stand. That must have been the millionth answer phone message she'd left over the past two months.

She'd thought about going up to see her brother-in-law in person but really she didn't have the time. Liz worked during weekdays and at weekends she helped her husband with cases and she doubted he wouldn't notice if she mysteriously felt like visiting Mycroft all of a sudden.

* * *

><p>Liz hadn't received a message from Moriarty for a month. She gradually gained weight and started taking the contraceptive pill.<p>

* * *

><p>''Sherlock Holmes'' she said lowly, ''you will let me kiss you''<p>

''Why?''

''Because you are my husband and I very much love you, now come here''

She tried to kiss him but he craned his neck out of her way, ''I'm busy''

''Your never _that_ busy''

He shut his eyes and took in a deep breath when she started toying with the hair at the nape of his neck, ''I am today''

She tutted. ''Spoilsport''

Elizabeth heaved herself off the sofa and walked away, wondering what was wrong with her husband. He'd been prickly all week…

* * *

><p>It was on Thursday evening when she returned home from work did everything start going more wrong.<p>

She climbed the stairs of 221b tiredly, dying to kick her heels off and relax on the comfy chair with a glass of wine. When she reached the top step, she heard a voice, one that was not her husband or flat mate but the one of the eldest Holmes brother.

''So you see the mistake I've made Sherlock. By allowing the information to get into the wrong hands, Elizabeth is in danger''

She opened the door, already guessing the topic of the conversation.

Sherlock's flinty expression told her all she needed to know and as it turned out, Mycroft had told him everything.

''You had no right'' she dropped her handbag down on the kitchen counter angrily, ''it was up to me how and when I told him, not your decision''

''I can assure you, I have your best interests at heart''

''Yes of course you do'' she said mockingly.

Liz plonked herself in the chair facing Sherlock, who remained mute throughout the duration of his wife and brother's heated discussion.

When Mycroft left, the two of them still remained silent. Sherlock's eyes burning a hole in the floor and Liz staring down at her lap.

''When were you going to tell me?'' he said abruptly, causing Liz to jump, ''you said to Mycroft that it was up to you how and when you told me''

''I didn't know how to'' she admitted.

Sherlock suddenly slammed his hand down on the chair arm, ''It's been months!''

''I know!''

''Didn't it occur to you I might have wanted to know at the time? A simple, 'Darling, I think I may be pregnant' would of sufficed, or perhaps 'I'm being threatened dear', _Oh really, who by?_ 'JAMES MORIARTY' –'' Liz kept her head down as he continued to rant and pace round the room. Then something clicked in her mind about what he had just said ''- But no, I couldn't help you because you didn't think it wise to tell me!''

''What do you mean, _'I might have wanted to know_ _at the time_'?''

''Really Liz, do you honestly think I wouldn't have figured it out? I thought you were cleverer than that''

Silence.

''So you knew then?''

''Of course I knew! I've known ever since I found the pills in your handbag'' he pointed at the offending article still sitting on the table, ''I realised you must have been pregnant at some point to realise you ever needed them in the first place. What I didn't know was that you were in contact with James Moriarty''

''Is that what your more pissed about? ''

''Yes! Because of your stupidity! By waiting this long you've given Moriarty the perfect ammunition''

_What for?_

He stopped pacing and leaned over infront of her, ''didn't it register in that thick skull of yours that this man could be dangerous? Haven't I already told you what he's capable of? He's going to use you Liz!''

''I wanted to! I tried'' Liz defended herself; he seemed more bothered about this Moriarty character then the other thing.

''Well, not very hard. Evidently''

Just then John walked in carrying this week's shopping, ''I've just seen Mycroft on my way up, is everything okay? I heard shouting…''

''No John, everything is not okay. Liz was just telling me why she didn't tell me about the baby she was carrying and how she's been in contact with Moriarty for months''

Liz suddenly felt ashamed. Had she really caused so much distress? She looked up at Sherlock who had crouched infront of her; she'd never seen him look so angry.

''Well, aren't you going to say something?'' he questioned her,

''Sherlock, I don't think-,''

''Be quiet John. Come on, I want you to tell me all about it'' Liz could feel her heart pounding and her breathing come out in shaky puffs of air. She glanced over at John who had since not dropped the shopping and was looking at her with an unreadable expression. She opened her mouth to speak when she felt Sherlock's hand on her chin, jerking her face upwards to look him in the eye, ''no, no. Don't look at him. Look at me. Look me in the eye Elizabeth and tell _me_''

''You already know''

''I want to hear it from you, I want to hear you say it'' His eyes were boring into hers with such intensity that she daren't look away.

''I'll just, err, give you two some privacy'' she heard John say somewhere from the direction of the kitchen and he shuffled out of the room awkwardly.

* * *

><p>She told him everything. Not that he didn't already know, but he insisted on hearing it from her point of view. The pregnancy, the abortion, Mycroft dropping the medical records at the flat, the messages from no one, the flowers and then replying back to one of the text messages and finding out it was James Moriarty on the other end.<p>

She told him about how at first he just goaded her with the information, then after a while insisted that she tell Sherlock. He wanted her to destroy him and now, as her husband had explained, because Sherlock already knew, Moriarty would try and find something new to hurt him with and it would most definitely involve Elizabeth.

''If you'd have just told me you were pregnant, none of this would be happening''

Elizabeth sighed, that must have been the tenth time he'd hinted at that today. ''I was worried you'd try and talk me into keeping it'' she admitted.

He remained quiet; he didn't even look as though he was listening. Sat in the arm chair facing hers, legs crossed over haphazardly with one elbow on the arm rest and staring into the fireplace.

''I'm going to bed'' she sighed, getting up from the chair. She didn't look back and Sherlock didn't acknowledged he'd heard her.

* * *

><p>Liz stared up at the ceiling, she had to get up for work in a few hours and Sherlock still hadn't come to bed. She toyed with the idea of pulling a sickie to avoid having to get out of bed early but she was on her last warning. Anymore time off that wasn't a holiday and she would be fired.<p>

She lay there for another hour or so, just drifting off when she heard the bedroom door creak open and shut quite loudly – obviously he hadn't bothered to be quiet as to avoid waking her, although she wasn't asleep so she supposed it didn't matter. She felt the mattress sink behind her and realised that he mustn't have changed into his pyjamas, coming to bed in his usual suit which he often did sometimes when he couldn't be bothered getting changed.

He lay stiffly beside her, taking care to stay on his side of the mattress and she on her side. Sherlock stared at the patterns on the ceiling much like his wife had been doing before. He was still angry, she could sense it.

* * *

><p>Morning came all too quickly for Liz's liking. The sun crept through the slightly ajar curtains telling her it was time to be getting up.<p>

Looking at the clock beside her, it said 06:38. Groaning, she shoved the covers back and dragged herself out of bed and towards the bathroom for a shower.

Sherlock was still asleep, faced towards the edge of the mattress with the duvet pulled up to his chin. Normally he'd be up by now or awake when Liz got up for work, but she guessed he was either _very_ tired as he only got to bed a few hours ago or still annoyed at her so was pretending to be asleep to avoid her. Either way when she got out of the shower, he was still there and she supposed she wouldn't see him till she got back from work.

* * *

><p>John was in the kitchen. He was up early considering it was his day off today; however Liz didn't feel much like explaining everything right now so grabbed her coat and bag, said goodbye to John and headed downstairs without any breakfast.<p>

* * *

><p>It was 11:03 in the morning.<p>

''What is it with you and being an inconsiderate twat all the time?''

Sherlock ignored him and proceeded to lie on the sofa where he would read the paper until he found something better to do. ''Where's Liz?''

''Gone to work'' John sighed, ''I don't know what all that was about last night but you really could have handled it better''

''Hm'' was all the reply.

John continued with his blog and Sherlock with his newspaper until the phone rang.

''Phone''

''Let the answer machine get it'' Sherlock drawled lazily, flicking another page.

The answer machine did and it was Liz's boss. _''Hello, this is LLR Solicitors, Peter Sykes speaking. I regret to say Elizabeth that this was the final straw. You were informed on numerous occasions _that_ anymore time off and we would have to let you go, you also failed to provide an explanation as to why you would not be coming into work today, therefore I will send a reference-,'' _The rest of the message was never heard as Sherlock knocked it off before it could finish.

''I though you said Liz went to work today?''

''She did''

* * *

><p><strong>So what do you think, is it worth continuing for a few more chapters, I'm thinking of including Moriarty in the next one. <strong>

**Please review :D**


	4. Chapter 4

**Only a few more chapters to go guys…**

_**I don't own Sherlock.**_

_- Took you long enough. Battersea power station – JM._

Sherlock stared at the text. Not thirty seconds after hearing the answer machine confirm Liz was fired did his phone ring with a text from Moriarty.

''The power station. Come on'' he quickly shoved on his coat and scarf and practically flew down the stairs, John hot on his heels.

''Are you going to explain?''

''In the cab''

* * *

><p>Elizabeth woke with a groan. Feeling nauseous and like her head was about to split in two. She blinked a few times to clear the blurriness of her vision and realised she was sat upright in a chair.<p>

She tried to move but felt something rough tug against her wrists which were tied behind her back and to the chair.

''What the… Oi!'' she shouted out, and it echoed, not knowing if anyone was in the room with her or not. She looked round, it seemed like a warehouse. Empty, cold grey floor and walls and an extremely high ceiling.

Thinking back, she remembered a man approach her on her way to work. After that, it was all a blur and then she woke up here.

Liz struggled in the chair for minutes but it was useless. All she was achieving was sore wrists.

Taking a deep breath and willing herself to not lose patience, she looked down towards her lap only noticing what looked like blood had dripped onto her white work blouse. It was then she registered the feeling of something warm trickling down the side of her face, her own blood.

Great.

''I see your finally awake'' her head snapped up in the direction of the voice and she saw him. A man dressed in a brisk grey suit was walking towards her and extracting a white hanky from his blazer pocket, ''that's quite a shiner you've got there'' he dabbed his handkerchief over her left eye where she assumed the blood was coming from. ''Such a pretty face, shame we had to hit you but the boys said you wouldn't come quietly'' he cooed.

''Your Jim Moriarty?''

''Why, you almost sound disappointed. Of course, who else did you expect? I'm Moriarty and you, Elizabeth Holmes have been a _very _bad girl indeed''

He kept circling her around the chair, making her feel faint as she had to keep turning her head to keep him in sight, ''why have you brought me here? Surely if you wanted me killed you could have had it done in the street''

''This way is more fun'' he said simply. ''Way, _way_ more fun. Besides, we wouldn't want our main guest to miss the show''

''Sherlock…''

''Of course, I've texted him so he should be here soon'' suddenly his phone beeped and he took it from his pocket, ''Ah, speak of the devil. I'm going to untie you now and we can greet him together''

* * *

><p>John watched his friend in the taxi. He was staring out of the window with a blank expression on his face, a dam good poker face if ever he saw one. After Sherlock had explained everything, John was up to date and the rest of the journey was quiet.<p>

The car pulled up outside the power station and Sherlock shoved a handful of notes at the cabbie before getting out, not even bothering to wait for John as he trailed over to one of the open side entrances.

The building looked derelict, what with scaffolding scattered here and there and abandoned machinery left unattended. There was an eerie feel about the place that made John feel uneasy, clearly the building had not been in use for some time.

''Do we have a plan?''

Sherlock spared him a glance as they turned another corner sharply, ''Improvising''

''Great, good. Glad to hear it'' John said, not really trying and failing to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

They walked quickly, footsteps echoing loudly around the empty halls until they entered the high ceiling room; they were in semi-darkness except for a few flickering lights above which buzzed softly.

In the middle of the room stood Elizabeth looking tired and bloody, Moriarty right behind her with one arm spread round her front, holding her close and the other pressing a gun firmly to her temple.

''Ahh Sherlock, so glad you could make it. We waited for you'' Moriarty said, edging forward with Liz wriggling in his arms.

Sherlock stepped closer, one arm stretched out infront of him in submission, ''ah, ah, ah, you stay right there or I may just reconsider and blow her brains out right now. These walls could do with redecorating, don't you think Liz?'' he whispered the last part softly and she growled something back in frustration.

''Oh Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie, you're not in a position to make threats'' he laughed.

''Just let her go Jim, you don't have to do this'' Sherlock spoke, still trying to get closer. He could see the blood streaked down her face and noticed how her breathing was quick and raspy. He tried not to panic but the way his arm trembled showed differently.

''Oh I really think I do, you see we're just getting to the best part'' then he turned his attention back to the battered woman in his arms, ''I must say that you're a lot shorter in person than I expected but then I guess that's what having a tall husband does for you. Although I can see why you like her Sherlock, stimulating physique…'' he nipped at her earlobe and she whipped her head round instantly.

''Don't. Touch me'' she breathed out shakily, still struggling against his iron grip and all Sherlock could do was stand there and watch with John stood beside him idly. He grimaced as Jim lowered his mouth to Liz's exposed neck and whispered something he couldn't hear. Judging by the way she started thrashing more in his arms, it didn't take a detective to work out what he was suggesting.

''Oh and you're a biter to, I do love biters. Make interesting fuck buddies'' he was so close, Liz could feel his breath creep down her neck, sending a chill down her spine that had nothing to do with cool air.

''Don't even think about it'' They all turned to look at John who had remembered he had a gun tucked in his trousers and was currently pointing it straight at Moriarty, he unclasped the safety, ''or it'll be your brains that splatter the walls''

''Doctor Watson, almost forgot you were here'' John passed the gun over to Sherlock who kept it pointed at Moriarty as he moved forwards warily.

''I mean it Sherlock, I'll empty this thing in her fucking head if you come any closer''

Sherlock stopped.

''If you intended to kill her you would have already done so by now'' For the first time, Liz and Sherlock made eye contact. He could see the fear behind her eyes as Moriarty held her to his body.

''She killed your baby, Sherlock'' Moriarty whispered. ''Surely you want some sort of retribution-,''

''Nope'' he replied calmly, ''By all accounts, I think she did the right thing'' and Liz let out a breath she didn't realise she had been holding.

''If you hurt her James, I swear on my life you will be sorry…'' he looked back at his wife whose head had been forced back of Moriarty's shoulder. ''Please'' he added

Moriarty gasped is mock surprise, ''Sherlock Holmes begging, oh this is going to be fun. Aren't you going to ask me what I'm gonna do?''

Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut in annoyance, ''what are you going to do?'' he gritted out,

''Well, seen as you asked, I was thinking I was gonna shoot her but thought; _this is Sherlock's other half we're talking about, it would be too original. _Then I considered stabbing her, twist the knife in her stomach until she bled to death and stained the floor with her blood, but _then_ I thought; _nah_ _too messy _and I can't drown her_-_'' whilst Moriarty was distracted, John slipped aside into the darkness. He had his phone in his pocket. ''-So I thought to myself, how can I make this interesting?'' Moriarty pretended to ponder, ''I mean, she's special so that would require a good send off, one that everyone will remember and then it suddenly occurred to me! We're in a power plant after all. What better way to die excitingly than by electrocution! YES!''

''No!''

Liz made a frantic sound as his grip on her tightened, ''how does that sound Lizzie? One thousand volts of electricity convulsing through your body'' she tried to pull away using his grip on her as leverage, her breathing coming quicker as she writhed in his grasp.

All at once, several things happened. Sherlock closed the distance between himself and Moriarty. John came up behind and grabbed for his arms as Sherlock started wrestling the gun out of his grasp – trying to point it down and Liz even managed to untangle herself just as the sound of a gunshot echoed throughout the room and they all stopped still.

* * *

><p>Liz looked down, blood soaking through the front of her white blouse and turning it crimson. It was strange because it was as though she couldn't feel it, it was just numb.<p>

Also, everything seemed to slow down, like it was happening in slow motion. She pressed a hand to her stomach, not really knowing what she was doing. The blood just seemed to seep through her fingers.

She registered shouting as the police burst in and John came up beside her, already switched into Doctor mode. He supported her weight as her knees buckled and pressed his hand over hers on the wound.

''Sherlock!'' he yelled and that was the last thing she remembered before blackness.

* * *

><p>She woke up in hospital two days later feeling drained and heavy. Sherlock was asleep, slouched in the chair beside her and it was the most content she'd seen him look in months, even if he wasn't clean shaven or wearing a fresh shirt.<p>

She glanced round the room as best she could. A bunch of Daffodils and a card were on the side table by her bed, she guessed they were from Mrs Hudson. She never did care for flowers that much, they never were any in the flat, but she couldn't deny they did brighten up the dull hospital room a bit.

There were also another bunch of flowers set on the table at the foot of her bed, red Tulips which she guessed were from John. The only person they could be from really seen as he was the only other one that knew they were her favourite beside her husband and she very much doubted they were from him.

Just then the door opened and John shuffled in carrying another bouquet, ''Oh your awake, how are you feeling?''

She tried sitting up but winced at the shooting pain in her side, her first reaction was to say 'how do you think I'm feeling?' but decided on ''terrible'' instead.

John frowned, ''you've been in and out of consciousness for days, couldn't make sense of you when you were awake, so doped up on painkillers. These were left at reception for you by the way'' he placed the flowers by his own at the end of her bed, ''from Mycroft''

She was surprised but said nothing, merely raised an eyebrow. She was still tired and the effort of vocalising her surprise at her brother-in-law sending her flowers seemed too much at the moment.

''What day is it?'' she croaked,

''Sunday, here'' he passed over a glass of water and held the glass whilst she sipped it, not actually realising how thirsty she was until the cool liquid reached her lips.

''So, what's the damage?''

''Well,'' John lowered himself in the chair next to Sherlock's, ''you went straight into theatre to remove the bullet… That took a while, but the doctors said it missed everything important so nothing major really, nothing that won't heal over time. He's been worried about you, you know'' he indicated to Sherlock with a curt nod. ''Not been back to the flat, he's been living of black coffee for the past two days, bloody idiot''

Liz chucked, ''are here's me thinking he'd gone all soft on me in his old age''

''Hm, not likely'' they both chuckled this time and then settled into a comfortable silence before Liz spoke again, a question that had been burning inside her since she awoke;

''What happened to Moriarty?''

John sighed.

''He disappeared… After the police turned up he just sort of… evaporated''

''People don't evaporate John, let's be realistic'' Liz turned to the source of the voice to see that Sherlock was very much awake, a small smile tugging the corner of his lips, ''how's the patient?''

He got up and folded his hands behind his back before inspecting his wife looking worse for wear and she almost laughed at the stubble conquering over his chin and jaw.

''I've been shot, how do you think?'' she retorted and the smile grew wider across his face.

* * *

><p>''Bloody keep still woman!''<p>

''Well it's a bit difficult when you keep poking and prodding me all the time!'' Liz defended, pushing his wandering hands away from her stomach.

''I'm trying to help, now sit still''

Liz huffed and flopped backwards on the couch whilst Sherlock attempted to remove her dressing. After two weeks she had been discharged from hospital on strict instructions that she take it easy for a while. Of course that part wasn't too difficult; her favourite thing to do was nothing at all and after re-joining the unemployed population it was only too easy. No, the hard part was keeping her cool whilst Sherlock tried to get a look at her practically healed wound. She'd already elbowed him in the face once for jabbing too hard.

She breathed in deeply as his cool hands unwrapped her bandage, fingers brushing lightly over the flesh of her warm skin. His face was held in concentration, brow furrowed, eyes narrowed and it amused her how he was practically glowering daggers at the angry scar underneath.

''Does it still hurt?'' he uses the pad of his thumb to brush across the raised flesh gently and there's no sensation there at all.

''I can't feel it'' she admitted.

He leaned forward slowly and brushed his lips across the wound just above her left hipbone. Resting his forehead on her stomach he sighed deeply and Liz could tell he wanted to say something, she knew he found it difficult – they both did. They'd known each other for nearly ten years, been married for almost six and she could probably count on one hand the number of times they'd said the words 'I love you' to each other.

''I could of lost you'' he said quietly

Liz combed her fingers through his thick curls, ''I know''

Quick footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs and Sherlock pulled back, gazing at his wife's half naked top half. ''You should probably put your shirt back on''

''Indeed, probably'' she chuckled.

* * *

><p>''If you're gonna be awkward about it Sherlock then you can stay here''<p>

''I'm not being 'awkward' as you put it. I merely don't see the appeal to socialise with a bunch of under intelligent morons about domestic things like _mortgages_ and _car_ _insurance_ in the local boozer and frankly I don't think you should either''

''Yes you are'' Liz said simply whilst slipping into a pair of comfortable heels. It had been one month since her discharge from the hospital and even longer since her last drink. After weeks of being cooped up in the flat, she needed to get out. Even if it was only for a few hours.

''I beg your pardon?''

''Being awkward''

Sherlock sat up on the couch, wearing his suit trousers and shirt but with a silk dressing gown over the top, ''no I'm not''

''Fine. Stay put. See what I care,'' she slipped on her grey coat over her tunic, ''don't wait up''

''I won't'' he called as she headed for the stairs ''and don't pretend like you _want _to go, I know you're only in it for the free booze!'' the door slammed shut, leaving Sherlock alone to amuse himself.

* * *

><p>03:12 am. The front door of 221b slammed shut followed by the unmistakable drunken footfalls of one Elizabeth Holmes. He could hear her cursing up the stairs as she dropped her keys then started giggling.<p>

It took her a grand total of six minutes just to get to the second floor flat and would take a further three minutes to locate the ware abouts of the bedroom.

''Honey I'm hooooooooomee!'' she yelled, pulling off her coat clumsily and chucking it somewhere in the direction of the coat hook.

Sherlock was sat up in bed, fully clothed and had been playing his violin until about ten minutes ago. When Liz finally stumbled through their bedroom door he regarded her with a look of disapproval but made no attempt to get up and help her into bed.

She kicked off her shoes and started tugging at the back of her dress, barely noticing an irritate Sherlock watching her closely. ''Urgh, can't find the zip'' she mumbled, only half cross at herself as the other part of her found it incredibly hilarious, ''stupid zip… should have Velcro on these bloody…''

Sherlock sighed up at the ceiling as if to say 'God give me strength'

''Come here'' and she did with as much gracefulness as she could muster only to fall flat on her face on the mattress and across Sherlock's legs.

The bed sheets were cool against the flushed skin of her cheeks and she sighed happily, quite content to doze off right there. She heard Sherlock sigh wearily before feeling a cool pair of hands reach the back of her neck and tug the zip down, revealing more of her warm skin to the chilled air.

''Sit up'' she complied, turning over so she was lay on her back then with the help of Sherlock she managed to get herself in the upright position. He grabbed the hem of her dress then hitched it up over her frame and after much fumbling; he finally managed to rid her of her dress, leaving her perched on the edge of their bed in her underwear.

He then pulled back the covers on her side and helped her into bed, her head lolling on his shoulder but not before she hooked an arm round his neck and pulled him on top of her with a loud 'oof' and knocking the wind out of her.

She could still feel the mix of alcohol in her system making her eyes go all blurry and her coordination very off centred but that didn't stop her from undoing a few of his buttons.

''Liz, stop it. You're intoxicated'' he pulled his shirt out of her grasp so she started on his belt buckle instead.

''And?''

''It would be taking advantage''

''I really don't mind'' she purred huskily and tried again to de-clothe him of either shirt or trousers.

''Elizabeth!'' he snapped, once again swatting her wandering hands from his person but this time kept them pinned by her side,

''Ooh, I like it when we have it rough-,''

''What? No, I didn't, that's not what, your acting like a drunken teenager, now pull yourself together and stop this instant. A woman of your age should not be behaving like some adolescent dupe''

She blinked up at him and put on her best stern expression, ''what do you mean 'a woman of my age?'''

''Your 31, grow up'' he let go of her wrists and sat up, ironically noticing he was straddling her hips between his legs.

''That's still three years younger than you'' she pointed out childishly and he grinned. Elizabeth was never immature if she could help it.

He got off her legs to lie next to her and pulled the duvet up over them both, choosing to ignore her previous statement, ''you're going to have one hell of a hangover in the morning so get some sleep and try not to be sick in our bed''

* * *

><p><strong>Bit of fluff in that chapter, tried to keep it to a minimum ;D<strong>

**Please review! **


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry for the long wait guys, this chapter is a little pointless and random, I've not been well so I apologize in advance for its crappiness xD **

_**I don't own Sherlock.**_

''Morning gorgeous'' John smirked as his flatmate and friend shuffled into the living room, her pale face showing anything but splendour ''any particular reason you're wearing a duvet?''

Liz mumbled something that sounded like 'hangover' before plonking herself on the couch next to Sherlock then tumbled sideways onto his lap. He had the laptop balanced on the couch arm and grumbled when she caused it to almost topple off, ''I told you not to go, but would you listen?''

She groaned and pulled the duvet up over her head as she knew she was about to receive a tedious scolding about drinking and the effects of alcohol but it never came. Instead came the words; ''get up''

He shut the laptop and ushered her head off his knee.

''Aspirin'' he explained to the look of confusion on her face

''And here's me thinking we were going to have a cuddle-,''

''You know aspirin isn't actually the best way to cure a hangover,'' John interrupted, ''it just dehydrates the body even more-,''

''I know,'' Sherlock was now bustling over in the kitchen and searching through cabinets, ''but I'd like her to be sober for where she's going''

''Why, where am I going?'' Liz croaked.

''John is taking you to an alcohol support group'' John's head snapped up at the mention of his name,

''What?''

''Absolutely not'' Liz sat up quickly, tugging the duvet more snugly as she did, ''I'm not even an alcoholic'' Sherlock and John both looked at her pointedly, ''I'm not!''

''See, denial…''

''Sherlock!'' Liz got up off the sofa and stalked towards the kitchen in the most intimidating way she could possibly muster.

''She's your wife you take her'' John called from the other room,

''I'm busy''

''You can't force me to go-,''

''Yes.'' He popped two aspirin from the box and handed them to her with a glass of water, ''I can''

''This is ridiculous – John, tell him!''

John looked between the two awkwardly, ''Uhm, I don't really want to get involved…''

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

''I'm not going'' Liz declared before plonking herself back on the sofa in protest but sure enough, two hours later Liz and John were in the community centre.

* * *

><p>''How did it go?'' Sherlock asked he wife as he sat at the kitchen table, eyes focused on something through the microscope. Liz shoved her handbag down next to him with a huff.<p>

''Awful'' he spared her a glance as she paced round the kitchen, ''had to sit there for an hour and listen to people's problems and talk about _feelings_''

''Aww come on'' John smiled, ''you made a new friend''

''I would hardly call her a 'friend' John, I spoke to her once''

''Well, she seemed nice''

''She seemed desperate'' Liz corrected.

Liz clicked the kettle on and reached three cups from the cupboard, ''none for me thanks'' John picked his keys back up of the counter, ''I've got a date''

''Where you taking her this time?'' she asked, filling two cups of steaming black coffee, ''cinema, Laser Quest, Jungle Jims?'' John frowned as Sherlock sniggered into his microscope, ''or you actually going to go on an adult date for once?''

''Hey, at least I make the effort! I don't see you two going out anywhere special''

''We don't need to date''

''Why, 'too mainstream'?'' John chuckled and he left through the door. Liz sat down next to Sherlock and sighed as he started down at something she couldn't see through the microscope then suddenly;

''Sherlock''

''Hm?''

''What you said, months ago – did you mean it?'' Liz suddenly blurted out, it had been on her mind for some time, they hadn't spoken much about it but she wanted to know.

''Be more specific Liz, I say a lot of things'' he re-adjusted something on top of the bright light.

''At the power station, what Moriarty said…'' and he immediately knew what she was talking about, ''you said that you thought I did the right thing, did you mean it?''

''Yes, I did… And I still do''

''You were angry'' she pointed out.

''Well, that's because you never told me. It would have saved a hell of a lot of agro and a hospital job if you just…'' he trailed off at seeing the look on her face and she shifted uncomfortably under his gaze; which he noted as unusual. ''Do you ever think about it?''

''Think about what? Be more specific Sherlock, I think about a lot of things'' she quoted from him earlier, although she knows perfectly well what he's talking about and even more, she knows that _he_ knows she's trying to evade the question but for the tenderness of the situation he'll explain anyway.

''What it would have been like if you stayed pregnant?''

There was a small pause where he watched her and she tapped her nails on the table, ''no'' she said softly, ''do you?''

''Sometimes, well, a few times. I often wonder what it would have been like'' the corners of his lips curved upwards in a small smile and she returned it half-heartedly. Their child would have been born by now, they'd have a new born baby in the flat _right now_…

''Do you still think I made the right decision?'' not looking forward to what the answer might be. She noted something cross his face, a look she had not come across often on her husband. It was uncertainty. Her breath hitched, somewhere high in her chest – Sherlock Holmes was _never _unsure of anything.

''Well I'm not sorry'' she told him, ''and I won't be made to feel guilty about it either so don't bother – what?'' she asked irritably when he started chuckling. ''_What?_'' and he kept on chuckling until it became full blown laughter and the lines in his cheeks deepened and his nose crinkled up in that way that she finds adorable.

It wasn't a laughing matter but for some reason she found herself laughing too.

* * *

><p>Christmas was a quiet affair – or it would have been if Mrs Hudson hadn't invited people round for dinner. ''<em>Really you two, you can't <em>not _celebrate Christmas!'' _

Last year had been different, just the two of them and that was exactly how they liked it. None of the need for presents or tinsel or a tree and it's not like they even had the room in their previous flat anyway, what with all Sherlock's gear getting in the way and that's why they had moved – more space (which they still didn't have enough of)

Speaking of space, they were running out of it what with Molly proving to be a hazard with those antlers. She's turned up dressed as a mix between 'Sexy Santa' and 'Rudolph the red nosed reindeer' - flashing red nose and all.

Then there was John and Sarah, snuggled over on the couch. Mrs Hudson who was wearing her seasonal apron and hovering around offering mince pies to everyone and then a recently divorced Greg Lestrade was joking and laughing with Molly as they danced around the overly cramped flat to garish Christmas songs.

The flat itself had been decorated by Mrs Hudson and John. Fairy lights lit up the windows and tinsel sparkled around the mirror and on the mantel piece, the skull was wearing a Santa hat and there was even a tree standing proud covered in twinkling lights and baubles – oh, and the mistletoe that was placed conspicuously under the door frame.

Sherlock and Liz were stood side by side next to the window. Sherlock had his hands folded behind his back and Liz was sipping her 'sparkling soda' drink,

''Look at them all'' Sherlock drawled, ''how can they find _this_ entertaining?''

Liz peered up at him (seen as she only came up to below his shoulder) ''Oh, I don't know my love, perhaps there's something wrong with us''

''Or wrong with them… '' he breathed and she chuckled,

''You can join in if you like''

''No, I think I prefer it here with someone of moderately similar acumen levels''

''Sherlock, are you flirting? Oh catch me before I swoon''

She pretended to faint and bumped his shoulder playfully before they both cracked up into laughter. The two stood there, chucking at each other's comments before Molly approached them, somewhat tipsy off the Sherry.

''Liz-buf'' she giggled, almost sloshing her drink down her front as she stepped infront of the dark blonde. ''Gregory and I were, we were wondering if you would join us for a dance'' she slurred, already tugging her towards the middle of the room where Greg was swaying to the music.

''Oh no Molly, really I-,''

''She'd love to!'' Sherlock interrupted, smirking as he took drinks off both women and placed them on the windowsill and Liz shot him a filthy look when Greg grabbed her hands and pulled her to him, twirling her about the room.

Now everyone was smiling and laughing, even Sherlock who found it highly amusing at the look on his wife's face as Lestrade drunkenly stepped on her feet or how Molly sung at the top of her voice and highly out of tune to 'Jingle bell rock'

Shortly after John and Sarah joined in with the dancing and Mrs Hudson went off, bustling about in the kitchen leaving Sherlock and Molly the only ones without dance partners.

This was short lived as the young mortician dragged him by the cuffs to the middle of the room with the other couples and Liz gave him a smug look over her shoulder as if to say 'that's what you get for making fun of me'

Molly clumsily hooked an arm round his waist whilst the other grasped his hand and she attempted to waltz them about the room – her antlers repeatedly knocking Sherlock in the face as they did so.

''Enjoying ourselves were we?'' Liz smirked when Molly finally decided she needed to give her feet a rest and she sided up to her husband before he could sit down.

''Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, my dear '' he dropped one hand to her waist and the other around her back as they moved to the calmer song. _'…were happy tonight, walking in a winter wonderland…' _could be heard in the background ''_but_ the highest form of intelligence, or apparently anyway''

''And giving me complements as well? It's not our anniversary, you must be in a good mood''

''Hm. It's Christmas'' he said simply and a naughty grin spread across Liz's face,

''Early night?'' she suggested meaningfully,

''Absolutely''

By the end of the night, everyone was feeling dozy and resting after Christmas dinner and a good fill of Mrs Hudson's mince pies. Sherlock had played his violin customary to the festive season and they all shared a good chuckle when an intoxicated Molly cornered Inspector Lestrade underneath the mistletoe for a kiss.

They played charades and Cluedo in which John had given up on in a sulk because Sherlock kept insisting he knew the culprit even before the game had begun, once again arguing _''how is it possible for the victim to have murdered themselves?''_

Molly had fallen asleep in one of the chairs, her head lent against Lestrade who was sat on the arm, her mouth open and snoring lightly. Mrs Hudson was sat in the other chair in front of the telly, waiting for the queen's speech to come on catch-up. Sherlock, Liz and Sarah were all squished together on the couch and John sat on the floor with his back leant against it by Sarah's legs.

They'd all been wrapped up in the festivities that no one noticed the suspicious man stood outside in the snow or that he had been observing the goings on of 221b all day.

* * *

><p>Liz watched the man at the other side of the room as he talked at the end of today's session, she wasn't really paying attention – in fact she wasn't sure she even <em>looked<em> as though she was pretending to be interested. The man in question was the 'coordinator' called Tony, medium build with dark, close shaven hair and about three days' worth of stubble ghosting across his lower face – an ex-alcoholic, single man with two kids who held the meetings weekly at the community centre.

She was on her own this week. After endless meetings she insisted that she would be fine and John had no need accompany her – she wasn't helpless. Going to the group wasn't exactly her cup of tea but it helped, knowing that there were some people who were going through or who had been through similar stuff or were even worse off than you made Liz feel just that little bit better about the whole thing. People sharing their stories and experiences and even though she didn't join in much, she felt like she was a part of something…

''Now listen up because next week's session will be held by someone else –'' she was pulled from her thoughts by Tony's loud voice after all went quiet. ''now I haven't met him but from what I've heard, he's a top bloke'' murmurs broke out all across the room, ''he's called Mark Green and will be taking over for a few weeks whilst I sort out a few issues at home –''

After that Elizabeth tuned out, the rest of the speech was short and boring and after a few minutes, everyone started filing out through the large double doors. Thinking about it, she wasn't sure she wanted Tony to be replaced, even if it was only for a few weeks, it didn't bother her as such but she had gotten used to him…

Sherlock was waiting for her outside, hands tucked into his coat pockets and a sombre look on his face. The night air was cool and she pulled her coat more tightly around herself before linking her arm through his.

''How was it?''

''Tedious, my friend didn't come in today-,''

''I thought you hadn't made friends?'' he said amused as they walked down the high street

''You know what I mean, I was just bored. Anyway, got any closer with the case?''

''The missing thumb didn't match the fat man in the morgue so we're looking for new leads''

''And the teapot?''

''Empty. Someone drained it before we reached the scene. I'm going to have to ask Molly to do me a favour and let me use the lab again''

''I can't believe you're still doing that,'' she said incredulously, ''she still has feelings for you, you know'' Sherlock rolled his eyes as he waved down a cab, keeping the door open as she got in. ''I can still remember her face when she found out we were married, poor girl – Sherlock, why are we getting a taxi? We only live round the corner''

''Someone's been following us'' he said simply as they drove off. Liz whipped her head round to look out the window at the back and sure enough there was a dark figure stood in the spot where they had been just moments ago, watching as the cab got further and further away, ''I noticed when I was stood outside waiting for you, didn't realise he was armed until people started coming out of the community centre – god my reactions are slowing''

''Who do you think it is?'' she asked worried, ''and why didn't you tell me sooner?''

''I didn't want to cause alarm, he might have got suspicious and I don't know…'' he said honestly as they pulled into Baker street and he sqouze her knee in what he hoped was being re-assuring. ''But I think we're going to find out very soon''

* * *

><p>John could be heard yelling somewhere in the flat, something about keeping the noise down because some of the household actually have to get up early for work.<p>

''I think'' Sherlock said, spent and shiny as a fine layer of sweat dried on both their bodies ''we must have woken John up that time''

Liz chuckled and stretched out next to him on the mattress. Her breathing still heavy from the nights activities and she wiggled closer to his side, the smell of sex and sweat lingered around them both and she thought there could be a no more satisfying combination.

She sighed contently and pressed her lips to his shoulder, not wanting to accept that they'd have to get up in a few hours. Liz had another meeting later that day and then she suddenly remembered the stranger, the _armed_ stranger that had waited outside the community centre and started following them.

''Liz?''

''Hm?''

''You okay?''

''Yes, just thinking…''

''Thinking?'' he repeated, slightly anxious at what she could possibly be thinking to make her look so uneasy at a time like, well, _now_ – right after sex. ''About what?''

''Oh, nothing really, just the support group-,''

Sherlock shifted slightly so he could face her better, ''you don't think its working?''

''No, no I do – it is. It's just, I don't know… Someone tried following me last time, what if they do it again?… And if they were armed-,''

''Yes, hand gun. Bottom left jacket pocket-,''

''Sherlock'' Liz said in a warning voice, ''not helping'' and he smiled. He liked it when she was cross because her eyebrows knitted together when she frowned and if he was honest, he found it incredibly attracting.

''Your beautiful when you do that'' he said quietly, flexing his fingers against her stomach over the sheet.

''I beg your pardon'' she gave him a strange look, something mixed between amused and puzzled and he blinked, realising that he'd said it out loud.

''You know perfectly well what I just said Elizabeth Holmes''

''Say it again'' and she almost chuckled at him getting fidgety, after all these years he still found it slightly uncomfortable saying nice things to his wife, especially when he hadn't meant to.

''I said; your beautiful when you do that, well, your beautiful all the time but I will deny ever saying such a thing so don't go on about it'' he said quickly and shifted once again, on his side and sliding further down so he could slip his arm round her hips under the covers.

''What is it with you and paying me compliments lately? If I didn't already know you better, I'd say you were trying to have your way with me but it's a bit late for that now isn't it?'' she chuckled.

''Indeed, _years_ too late in fact'' he said airily ''ways already been had'' he took her by surprise by dropping his hand even further down and her breath hitched, she was still rather sensitive from earlier. He loved it.

''Sherlock!'' she gasped, ''its three o'clock in the morning''

''And? What difference does it make at three o'clock then it did about an hour ago or two hours ago?''

''Just, because…'' she huffed, wriggling beneath his touch, ''I'm tired''

Now it was his turn at being smug.

''That's never bothered you before, in fact it's often been your excuse to be lazy and let me do all the work''

She laughed at that, what he was saying was so blatantly true. If they both or sometimes just he wanted quick release and on the odd occasion she couldn't be bothered, she'd say she was too tired and let him get on with it without her putting in the effort. It was an easy way to get him to do enough to pleasure them both which was admittedly unfair really.

''What are you doing?'' he asked when she rolled over and swung a leg over both of his,

''Changed my mind'' was the reply and she began kissing across his exposed neck and chest, savouring the salty taste that still lingered on his pale skin, ''and take that smug look off your face''

He tittered and let his hands find her hair and tug slightly as she ventured further south. All thoughts of the mysterious stranger disappeared.

* * *

><p>Liz buzzed herself into the community centre; Maria, her friend was waiting for her inside as usual. Although this time she looked anxious and a bit giddy ''you wanna see the new fella,'' she said when she approached, ''he's not half good looking'' her thick London accent coming though strongly as she spoke.<p>

''Maria, for a god sake you're in your thirties, not thirteen'' Liz hissed as they sat down in two empty chairs in the circle, dumping their bags beside them as they waited for the new 'coordinator' to make an appearance. After a few minutes of pointless chatter everyone went quiet as the new figure entered the room.

''Hello, I'm Mark, sorry I'm late. I'll be taking over from Tony for a few weeks, hope you don't mind -'' Liz looked up quickly, she knew that voice. She'd heard it _over_ and _over_ a hundred times whether it be soft loving words or shouting at her in the middle of the night. Her heart hammered against her chest, it had been almost a decade since they were in the same room together and he was supposed to be _dead_…

He hadn't changed, not one bit. Still tall, dark hair in thick waves, his features were softer than Sherlock's but then again, whose weren't? Cold grey eyes and thin lips, with that hard look set permanently on his face.

Mark Green was Lee Kingsley. _Lee Kingsley._

''Hello Elizabeth'' he suddenly spoke and Liz jumped, he was smiling at her in what other people may have taken as fond, but Liz could only see a snarl. The same face she used to see in her dreams, her _nightmares. _''fancy seeing you here''

Liz stood up too quickly, knocking her handbag off her lap and almost toppling the chair over. Ignoring the confused looks from other members in the group, she gathered her things and fled the room.

* * *

><p><strong>Wrote some shameless flirting! I regret nothing ;D<strong>

**This chapter would have been slightly longer but was worried it may have been **_**too**_** long. Next chapter should be up fairly soon as part of it is already written. **

**Please review! **


	6. Authors note

**Authors note.**

Not entirely sure whats happening with my account. Updated this story yesterday but people don't appear to be getting notified about it?

Message me people and let me know :)

Thanks _ Aimee.


	7. Chapter 7

**Okay, so first of all this story went on way longer that I anticipated, originally it was only supposed to be a couple of chapters to ease me back into writing but I've enjoyed it too much :)**

**Seriously – and I mean it this time – there's only one, maybe two chapters at most left then epilogue. Going to include Reichenbach fall and then finite! **

**Hope you enjoy :D**

_**I don't own Sherlock.**_

Liz rammed her key in the lock with shaking hands then ran up the stairs of 221b as fast as she could given her short legs. Slammed the door behind her and collapsed against it breathing heavily. She couldn't believe it. He was alive, _very _alive and well. Not ten minutes away.

''Liz?'' it was John. ''Liz is that you?''

''Yeah..'' she replied shakily as John emerged out of the kitchen,

''Wasn't expecting you back yet, I've ordered takeaway, thought you were at the – Jesus, whats wrong?'' he asked when he saw her against the door. She was trembling and her knees look as though they were about to give way any second, ''Liz are you alright?''

''No John, I'm not'' she chocked back a sob – Liz did not cry. She bit her lip and willed the tears not to fall but it was no use, they had already begun trailing down her pale cheeks.

He walked over to her quickly, and pulled her to him before she collapsed, ''what is it, whats wrong?''

''It's Mark-,''

''The new coordinator?'' he asked puzzled,

''He's found me John, at the support group. I don't know how but he's found me''

''Who found you? Liz, look at me and take a deep breath, okay?'' he pulled away from her slightly to see her face but kept hold of her shoulders, ''now tell me whats going on''

''Lee…''

John went with her as she crumpled to the floor and shushed her as he fumbled through his jacket pocket, one-handed for his phone.

Lee? But he was dead. ''Sherlock better answer his bloody phone''

* * *

><p>John had managed to calm Liz down and sit her on the sofa where he handed her a glass of water and then paced about the flat. It had been around twenty minutes since Sherlock said he was on his way and in that time John had managed to get a little more information from Liz about what happened at the community centre. There were still some things he didn't quite understand but given the circumstances he thought it best not to push her.<p>

Another ten minutes and Sherlock could be heard thundering up the stairs, two at a time. John had told him the gist of it over the phone and to be quite honest, he was dumbfounded.

He burst in through the living room door to see Liz sat on the couch, elbows on her knees and chin resting on her hands – staring at the far wall numbly. John was stood beside her; it looked as though he had been trying to coax her into drinking some water but judging by the untouched, full glass on the side, he had been unsuccessful.

''Tell me what happened'' Sherlock instructed from John as he swiftly moved over to crouch infront of his wife, he took her hands away from her face as John told him what little he had found out after their conversation.

''And you're sure Liz? You're _sure_ it was him?''

''Yes'' she said for what she felt must have been the tenth that night, ''I knew it was him before he even said my name… Before I looked up even'' she finished quietly,

Sherlock sighed tiredly before jumping up, causing the other two to flinch,

''So what do we do?'' John asked, ''get the police involved?''

''No.. He'll be long gone by now, well he'll be gone but close enough…'' Sherlock explained, ''now that he knows we know he's alive. He'll be keeping a low profile''

''But he was at the community centre – Christ, he was holding the meeting for crying out loud! Posing as this… Mark whatever his last name is'' John too, started pacing up and down as the two of them slowly but surely tried to conclude what was going on.

Liz wasn't even listening anymore. All these years she thought he was dead, that he'd took the cowards way out and committed suicide before his trial... All this time she thought she'd been safe when in reality Lee Kingsley had been out there somewhere, possibly waiting…

''Unless he _wants _us to know he's alive.. But why would he want that? Why go all out in public and invent someone else when he can just… _Oh…'' _realisation dawned on Sherlock's face just seconds before his phone buzzed;

_- Finally, the penny begins to drop – JM_

''Moriarty…'' he whispered and then realised something else, ''cameras''

John looked up and glanced around the room, puzzled, ''what?''

''Cameras – in the flat. Now -''

Sherlock looked down at his phone when it buzzed again; _- Very clever Mr. Holmes – JM_

''- But why would you need cameras?'' he asked out loud, now addressing the recording devices that where no doubt hidden somewhere clever in the room, ''you've been keeping us under surveillance but why?''

John stared moving furniture around, books, the skull – anything that might be a good hiding place for a tiny camera or cameras…

Liz stood up and walked over to her husband, arms touching as she read with him the text message he had just received; _- I told you I would destroy you Sherlock Holmes, Lee Kingsley is going to help me – JM_

''But why would Lee Kingsley agree to-,'' he stopped himself before he could go any further. He felt Luz stiffen beside him, and guessed that she had pieced it together also. Jim Moriarty was going to _use_ Lee Kingsley. After the last plan didn't work, this was going to a whole other level of extremity.

The front door downstairs knocked and they all stopped still before John explained that it would be his takeaway. Liz said she would answer it for him seen as John was balancing with one foot on the desk and the other on the bookcase, removing one of the cameras from behind some books.

The phone buzzed again; _- And the penny finally drops, my; your reactions _are _slowing… JM_

Before he could even close the text, his phone rang and he answered it quickly, ''Why do you have to bring him into this? Fine, you want to destroy me but why _him_?...''

On the other end of the phone Moriarty chuckled, ''because he was more than willing to be up for the job. I don't just want to destroy you Sherlock, I want to _end _you. I want to take away all you have ever believed in, put your heart and soul in and what better to way than to start with the people you love?''

''What do you mean; you're going to use him to what? Follow me and pull my wife to pieces?''

''Well yes, there is that.. But you just don't get it do you, _Sir Boastalot_? After he's successfully done his job, she's his prize''

There was a moment of nothing when Sherlock's mind was fitting together the last pieces of jigsaw and all that could be heard was Moriarty's laughter down the phone before Sherlock hung up and shouted to Liz downstairs; ''Liz, don't open the door!''

No answer.

John got down from the desk and started walking with Sherlock silently over to the door. He and John stood at the top of the stairs where sure enough Jim Moriarty was slowly walking up, followed by Liz who was being held by a man Sherlock had never met before but knew full well who he was. He'd seen Lee Kingsley in photographs at Scotland Yard, even a few in the flat he helped Liz clear out all them years ago.

Behind his well asserted pokerface, Sherlock gulped. He was unarmed, so was John. The nearest gun was in the cutlery drawer, _underneath_ the cutlery. There was no way he'd make it in time before Moriarty or Lee got a chance to shoot one of them first.

And Liz, he noted had never looked more terrified. Even at the powerstation when she was beaten and bloody, a gun pointing to her head did she not look _this_… defeated.

* * *

><p>''So finally, the ex-lover meets the husband'' Moriarty chuckled as they all entered the flat, ''this is going to be fun,'' he then turned to address Lee, ''just tie her up over there, I'll deal with these two''<p>

Lee pressed the gun harder into Liz's back to indicate she move and started pushing her roughly when she disobeyed.

She whipped her hear round and spat at him to not touch her, ''I'm going to enjoy this'' he whispered huskily and she wrenched herself out of his grasp, choosing to offer her hands to be tied up rather than be forced to. ''Oh, I forgot. You always did like to be, shall we say _restrained_''

Liz's jaw clenched and she cringed at the use of his words. Over by the fireplace, Sherlock's face paled, he and John were being ushered backwards as more of Moriarty's men trudged into the flat and started tying them up.

''I don't think we can take them Sherlock'' John hissed through clenched teeth as six or seven of them filed into the flat, all carrying weapons, ''what are we going to do?''

''I know we can't'' Sherlock admitted irritately, ''and I'm working on it!''

No sooner had he said this did they start being dragged from the flat and into a black van that was waiting outside. Lucky Mrs Hudson was visiting her sister for the Easter holidays; god only knows what they might have done to her as well…

Inside the van was moderately huge. Plush sofas lined the edges and there was even a wine cooler in the corner. On the opposing side was a large screen, ironically displaying the inside of 221b Baker Street and of course Liz…

* * *

><p>''We have history, you and I'' Lee said as he plonked himself over in one of the chairs by the fireplace,<p>

''Forgotten'' Liz dismissed and Lee scoffed,

''But it's not though is it, because you'll _always_ remember'' and of course she would. It never left her mind, obviously it got easier as the years went by but it never truly went away.

''Let's cut to the chase. If you're going to rape me, I'd rather have it over and done with''

Lee fiddled with one of the threads loose on the chair before looking up to meet her eyes, a frosty expression set across his face, ''Well it wouldn't be the first time I've tried it would it? Of course the last time you smashed a bottle over my head before I could even get your knickers off''

Back inside the van Sherlock's heart plummeted. That was something Liz had never told him; never felt she could share with him. The most intimate violation… Beside him John was looking at him from the corner of his eye, guessing from the look on his face, this was new information.

''I despised you'' she hissed and he banged his fist on the chair arm,

''Yes but you came back! Didn't you? Stupid bitch, you _always_ came back to me!''

There was a short pause where everything was silent only for Lee's ragged breathing, ''how is it possible?'' Liz asked, finally giving in to curiosity

''My 'suicide'? Yeah, that was pretty easy. Get in with the right people and you can do just about anything, I didn't track you down till some months ago – of course I already knew you'd married that _detective _you met at Scotland Yard, what was it, a year after my death?''

''Two years'' she corrected,

''So, two years. So much for mourning your loss-,''

''My loss?'' she repeated, fighting back a chuckle ''your death was one of the best things that ever happened to me! I was finally free and now, you come back, working with Moriarty and pretending to work at the community centre… and it was you, following us that night after one of the meetings?''

''Clever girl'' he clapped mockingly and stood up. His some six foot tall build towering over her where she sat, ''you always were smart, I think that's one of the things that attracted me to you''

He strolled over to her and Liz prepared herself. In the van Sherlock's fists clenched as he watched the screen carefully, Lee leant over her and stroked her jaw affectionately before blocking their view of Liz from the camera.

All was silent, everyone in the van – including Moriarty seemed to be holding their breath for something to happen when suddenly 'stayin' alive' starting playing out loud and Moriarty pulled his phone out of his pocket,

''What?'' he said irritably, and then said something quietly that neither Sherlock nor John could hear, probably instructions through a microphone to an ear piece that was by Sherlock guessing, Lee's. ''you've got to be kidding me, how long do we have?...''

Sherlock's mind starting whirring, trying to come up with an escape plan quickly whilst Moriarty was distracted. There were two 'henchman' guarding the doors on the inside of the van, both armed. No doubt there'd be at least four or five more on the outside…

Just then Moriarty hung up on the phone, ''well, looks like you get off lightly… This time'' he said regrettably,

''Better offer?''

''Something like that…'' And Sherlock noted the edginess to his voice, whatever that phone call was about, it had Moriarty worried, ''Kingsley'' he yapped into the microphone by his lapel, ''we're leaving, you've got thirty seconds… no just leave her there''

* * *

><p>Liz hadn't seen nor heard from Lee or Moriarty for almost four months, their last encounter was so brief, she often wondered how long it would be before the next one... The support group continued as normal after a few weeks of being cancelled and she got a job working for her old solicitors.<p>

* * *

><p>''Mycroft?'' John said as he opened the door to see the eldest Holmes brother stood on the doorstep of 221b, rain splattering on the large umbrella that covered his head.<p>

''Doctor Watson'' he greeted with a curt nod, ''I'm here to see Sherlock… Won't take long, there's something he needs to know''

''Of course'' John stepped aside so Mycroft could get past. Upstairs Liz was sat on the couch with her legs tucked beneath her and still wearing her work clothes. Sherlock was sat beside her, the three of them had been watching a tape on the television that was relevant for the case he and John had been working on and eating takeaway at the same time.

''Who is it John?'' Liz called, winding up another mouthful of noodles on her fork.

''Estranged brother-in-law'' came the reply in what definitely wasn't John's voice. They both turned to the door as Mycroft strode in, water dripping on the wooden floor from his umbrella.

''Thought we agreed on no social calls?'' Sherlock drawled, re-focusing his attention back on the television,

''We did… But it's regrettable to say that this is not a social call'' at that Sherlock turned to look at his brother. John shuffled awkwardly passed him and settled himself by the desk, ''I'm afraid I have… let some information get into the wrong hands and that has put you in terrible danger Sherlock... All of you'' he addressed John and Liz who were watching him closely.

''What, again?'' Sherlock asked annoyed and Liz looked down at her lap.

Mycroft twisted his umbrella on the floor somewhat awkwardly, ''just, be careful''

''Is that it?''

''Sherlock'' Liz said warningly,

''What, if that's all he came to say then he can go now'' he looked up at his brother and smiled falsely, ''bye''

John crossed his arms and looked down, his eyes darting from side to side across the floor as he tried to ignore the awkward tension that had passed over the room. Liz, who was irritated at her husband's behaviour got up and offered to see her brother-in-law out at the front door.

''Sorry about him Mycroft, I don't know whats got into him…'' Liz apologised as she held the door open,

''Don't worry about it my dear… Sherlock is, an inauspicious of sorts'' he pulled on his black gloves before stepping out into the cold street, ''look after him Elizabeth'' he added sincerely.

''I always do… Mycroft?'' she added before he could get into the sleek black car waiting for him by the kerb, he turned round. The pouring rain once again bouncing off his umbrella making it difficult to hear what she was saying, ''I know it was you who stopped Moriarty that night, and Lee. I honestly don't know what would have happened…'' Mycroft simply cocked one of his eyebrows and smiled, ''thankyou''

With one side of his mouth curving upwards, he nodded briefly and said ''take care Elizabeth'' before getting into the car.

* * *

><p>''John?... John!'' Sherlock yelled up the stairs as he struggled with Liz in his arms, ''give me a hand''<p>

John appeared at the landing and ran down quickly when he saw the state of his flatmate come friend, ''what the hells the matter with her? She's not been drinking has she?'' he asked worried, grabbing her under the arms and Sherlock held her legs. Together they started carrying her up the stairs.

''No, she passed out on the way home; she was fine when I met her after the meeting but then she just sort of collapsed''

''She's not been drugged?'' John kicked the door open behind him and it slammed against the wall loudly.

''No, I shouldn't think so. I don't know whats wrong'' he admitted and John heard the worry quiver in his voice,

''Right, let's get her to the bedroom and I'll check her over, uhm, can you manage whilst I get some stuff?''

Sherlock nodded and gingerly let go of her legs, then wrapped an arm round her waist and the other under her knees. John carefully let go after making sure Sherlock had got her and went to the kitchen.

He placed her on their bed cautiously and removed her coat. She felt hot and her skin was clammy beneath his touch, like she was burning up and her pale face looked wishy-washy in the soft glow of their bedroom.

John returned carrying a small bottle of something which Sherlock assumed were old fashioned smelling salts and a glass of water. He checked her pulse, ''a little fast but not alarming'' he then pressed the back of his hand to her forehead and frowned, ''although she feels pretty warm… she's not been ill recently?''

Sherlock shook his head.

''And she's been eating properly?''

''Yes!'' Sherlock snapped, ''for Christ sake John, you live under the same roof don't you!''

''I was only asking!'' he replied and Sherlock had the decency to look guilty. He knew John meant well and he was only asking these questions with purpose and for Liz's benefit. ''Okay,'' John sighed before getting up off the bed, ''I'm certain she'll be fine; it could be any number of things. Sleep deprivation, worry, or she may be anaemic… Do you know if it was sudden or did she say anything before?''

Sherlock cleared his throat, ''Not really, she just stopped walking and when I asked her she said she felt dizzy and then blacked out''

''Alright…'' John got up off the bed, ''I don't think the smelling salts are necessary'' he mumbled, ''I'll just leave them there'' he placed them on the bedside table then looked at Sherlock expectantly, rocking on the balls of his feet with his hands tucked behind his back.

''Thankyou'' Sherlock said sincerely, offering him a small smile which he returned. Just then, Liz started murmuring something and John edged closer to the door,

''I'll just leave you to, err… Alone. Let me know if you need anything'' He backed out of the room and closed the door softly. He could hear Sherlock speaking to her quietly as he walked back to the kitchen, he frowned. People just didn't faint, not without a proper reason and seen as there wasn't a reason then it was slightly worrying.

John weighed out the possibilities in his head as he poured himself a coffee, maybe she was just tired. Back to a full-time job after months of unemployment was bound to be tiring, what with that and the meetings which were now held twice a week. He had to admit, she was doing extremely well on that part, it had been _months _since she last drank alcohol but there was something he just couldn't quite put his finger on…

* * *

><p>''Are you alright?'' Sherlock asked once again as they sat on the bed, he was perched on the edge with his elbows on his knees and looking at her over his shoulder. Liz was leant against their bed head, the pillows propped behind her and a feeble smile across her pale lips.<p>

''Yes, for the hundredth time, I just feel a little lightheaded. I'm sure it'll pass''

Sherlock nodded once before getting up, he still hadn't removed his coat and scarf. He took them off briskly and draped them over the end of their bed before standing next to her with his hands casually on his hips, ''Right, do you need anything?''

''No, I think I'm just going to have an early night… Actually, could you get my pyjamas?''

Most times he would have said no and told her she was capable of getting them herself but given the circumstances, he'll humour her… Just this once.

He turned and walked swiftly over to the dresser, pulling out random clothing and mumbling that she should have a more organised way of storing her clothes like he did. Finally he pulled out some cotton pyjama bottoms and an old, oversized t-shirt he used to wear back before they got married.

He placed them on their bed then helped her sit up so she could change. She unbuttoned her white blouse and Sherlock tugged it off her shoulders, then she stood up shakily and slipped out of her heels and grey pencil skirt.

Later that night when Sherlock came to bed she was still asleep or he thought she was asleep when in truth she'd been lay wide awake for the past few hours, unable to sleep despite the fact that she was tired.

No, she had been thinking – anxious. It had been on her mind for some time now but only _really _considered it today. They had been so careful! What if she'd forgotten to take her pill for a few days, she'd been so busy lately it wouldn't have surprised her if she hadn't… Well she'd know soon enough…

She felt Sherlock's side of the bed sink behind her and she tried to slow her breathing pattern down otherwise he'd know she was awake.

He was lay on his back with his hands on his stomach and staring at the ceiling. He'd not bothered to change, _again. _Liz inwardly huffed; it annoyed her when he did that.

''You can stop pretending to be asleep, I know your awake'' he drawled and her eyes snapped open. She turned so she was lay similarly to him and sighed,

''Go on, what gave me away?''

''I've never seen a sleeping person lie so stiffly, a plank would have been more convincing'' he said, not talking his gaze away from the ceiling,

''Your comparing me to wood now?''

Liz turned her head to face him and he laughed through his nose, ''feeling better then?''

''Much'' she smiled.

''Your pregnant aren't you?''

The question was so abrupt that she recoiled.

Her immediate reaction was to say no, but she wasn't sure. Her brain was buzzing and she could feel Sherlock's eyes burning in the direction of her abdomen under the duvet, ''I don't know…'' she replied honestly, returning her line of sight to the ceiling. The short pause signalled the end of the conversation and Sherlock turned over fully and wrapped himself around her.

Liz continued to stare at the ceiling for hours until she eventually drifted off. At least she didn't feel alone this time.

* * *

><p><strong>Please review, I'm not very motivated at the moment so it could be just the job ;D<strong>


	8. Chapter 8

**Not going into detail about the events of Reichenbach in this chapter, we all know what happens; also this chapter is a little fast paced. Uhm, almost rape situation here so yeah… Warned. **

**ANGST!**

_**I don't own Sherlock.**_

Liz trudged up the stairs tiredly, it had been a crap day at work and she wanted nothing more than to run a deep, hot bath and sink into to bubbles, perhaps drown herself if she was still feeling miserable. She went to the kitchen first though, to make herself a strong coffee – black preferably. Only, when she reached the kitchen, there was somebody already occupied at the table pouring himself a tumbler full off whiskey. It wasn't Sherlock. It wasn't John. It wasn't even Mycroft.

He looked up and greeted her with a twisted grin, ''finally, you took your time. I've been sat here for ages, waiting for you to come home''

''You'' she hissed, dumping her bag and keys on the counter loudly,

''Me'' Lee drew a second glass from across the table and poured a second glass, ''I brought us something'' he said, sliding the glass over to her and she frowned at it, ''awh come on, it's your favourite''

''What are you doing here?'' she dismissed the glass and walked over to the other side of the kitchen. Cutlery drawer. Gun. Underneath the cutlery. If push came to shove she'd use it.

''Oh, just a social call''

Liz scoffed, ''you _broke_ into my flat, Lee''

''Well, I didn't think you would let me in''

''You thought correctly, now get out''

''Aww come on Liz. Don't be like that, just have a drink. I know you're stressed, I can tell with your shoulders'' he passed the drink over and pushed it into her hands until she accepted. ''sit down'' he instructed and she found herself lowering her tired body into the chair beside his before she could even think.

She watched with yearning as he downed his own drink first then slammed it on the table before turning to her and indicating to the glass in her now slightly shaking hands, ''I don't do this anymore…'' she tried, she could smell it and it was driving her mad. She longed for the warm burn in her mouth, the tinge of the aftertaste and of course the light feeling you get after a few glasses. She licked her lips, suddenly dry.

Lee shifted in his chair to face her better and leaned in to whisper, ''I won't tell if you don't…''

She regarded him before glancing down at her own glass, months she'd gone without drink, absolutely _months_ and didn't she know it. She missed it. It was the one thing she could use to put distance between herself and the real world, between feelings and uncertainties.

Before she could comprehend rhyme to reason, her hand had brought the tumbler up to her lips and she froze. Her eyes shut as she inhaled deeply. The smooth edge ghosted across her lips, barely touching the skin there before she tipped it upwards and the amber liquid slid into her mouth.

''You've never changed'' he laughed, ''only have to wave it infront for your nose, you can't resist can you?''

However she wasn't listening, instead savouring the sharp taste in her mouth – it was welcomed.

''Hello, my names Liz and I'm an alcoholic'' he mocked in a high pitched voice, ''it's been half an hour since my last drink and I'm gasping for another''

''Shut up'' Liz snapped, ''you have no idea''

''That may be but I bet you won't refuse another'' this time he pushed the bottle over to her and leant back in his chair, waiting.

''You're so sure I'll drink it aren't you?'' Liz brought a hand up to the top and started circling the rim with her finger.

''You forget who I am Liz, I _know_ you. 'Just one more' remember?''

''I'm not like that anymore'' she stressed and Lee just shrugged.

''We'll see…''

She thought for a moment about the consequences. It wouldn't do any harm, would it? It wasn't as though she'd be having the whole bottle, just one more glassful and that would be it. _Dam. _There it was again, the 'one more' rule she used to abide herself by. Look where that got her.

Then of course there was the slight probability that she may be pregnant, Liz didn't honestly know the risks of drinking during pregnancy but she knew well enough that you weren't supposed to do it. But then again, she'd already had one drink… And there was a fifty-fifty change that she may _not_ even be having a baby.

She was aware of Lee's eyes watching her, just waiting for her to give in and her grip on the bottle neck tightened.

''Come on Liz''

''I can't'' she said, pushing it away,

''Don't worry, I won't be telling your husband,'' Lee took the bottle and poured it for her, _again_, ''humour me just this once, please''

''I said no'' Where was Sherlock? He should be home by now…

Something flickered across his face and it registered as the same look she used to see on him all the time.

''Don't refuse me Elizabeth'' he said lowly, and beat his fist against the table causing Sherlock's lab equipment to rattle on the far side.

Liz stood up and pointed towards the door, ''go Lee, just _go_''

''_I said no_'' he mimicked her and stood up with _that_ smirk across his bastard face.

''Sherlock will be home soon''

''And…?'' he moved a hand to her face and slowly dragged his thumb down over her lips. _Those hands_. She thought she loved them once. They were rough but could be gentle sometimes, not often but sometimes.

Liz sqouze her eyes shut, willing for him to stop touching her. She felt his fingers move deftly over the smooth line of her jaw and lower, lightly grazing her neck down to her collarbone before she felt him at the top of her blouse, fingering the top button there.

She snapped her eyes open to see his dark brown ones boring intently into her green,

''Don't'' she warned, half sounding like a plea. He held her gaze for a moment longer before he had the nerve to pop the first button open and she slapped him, the palm of her hand colliding with the skin of his cheek and like a chain reaction he slapped her back, hard across the face.

She held her palm over the place he had slapped her, already feeling the harsh sting and the blood rushing to the surface of her cheek.

He was breathing heavily through clenched teeth, his eyes wide and menacing. There was approximately five seconds before Lee lunged forwards, pushing her into the counter behind and she grunted as the hard edge dug into her back. ''Lee-'' she spluttered, his lips were pressed against hers firmly, his hands everywhere, roaming her body and suddenly she was taken back to that night…

The tinge of alcohol on his breath and taste of it in her mouth. She gasped when his teeth bit down on her lip and he took the opportunity to force his tongue in her mouth – invading.

He started tugging at the material of her work blouse and she became dimly aware of his erection pressing solidly into her stomach. She pushed against his chest but that just made him push his hips more firmly against hers, holding her in place against the counter.

Downstairs, Sherlock had just walked in through the door, he was about to slam it shut when he heard muffled voices and cries as well stuff being knocked over from upstairs.

Shutting the door quietly he made his way upstairs, taking care to avoid the steps that creaked as to evade being heard.

Lee's mouth was now sloppily trailing down her front, nipping and sucking violently, leaving angry red blotches on her skin.

''Stop, just stop-'' her shirt was already hanging loosely off one shoulder with only the bottom few buttons remaining still fastened. The iron grip on one of her hips slackened as he reached one handed for his belt buckle and Liz whimpered as he slid one knee between her legs. He breathed harshly through his nose, trying to concentrate on getting his belt undone. This was it. He was going to rape her and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

She just prayed that if Sherlock didn't come in now, then he would just after it happened, at least then he wouldn't have to whiteness it.

Little did she know he was halfway up the stairs.

Liz heard his belt buckle come undone and he slid his knee out from between her legs so he could shimmy his trousers past his hips. The pressure on her back ceased as he stepped backwards only slightly and that was when she bolted.

She only made it to the table before she felt Lee's hand close round her wrist and yank her back. Outside the door, Sherlock heard her cry and he slammed the kitchen door open to see his wife with her clothes in disarray and pulling away from Lee.

She kneed him, hard and then grunted as he threw her forwards against the table. She barely registered Lee's presence behind her before she grabbed the nearest thing to her – Sherlock's microscope.

_Either this or he will rape me. _Taking a firm hold she swung round with it, the corner striking Lee solidly in the head and he collapsed.

* * *

><p>''He's dead'' Sherlock was no means a medical expert but he knew well enough that when a person's head was bashed in, they weren't breathing and their pulse was none existent then that person was no longer alive.<p>

Liz sunk down against the kitchen unit and glanced down at her hands. Blood. How did blood even get on her hands? Then she looked around at the floor, it was pooling out from the wound on Lee's head. A clear strike if ever there was one.

Sherlock was knelt beside him after inspecting his respiratory rate. Blood also coating his hands and the tails of his coat.

_Would this be classed as murder? _She wondered. But then of course not, she worked for solicitors and she'd had enough jobs concerning the law to understand the ins and outs of the system. Well… She hoped not anyway.

''Liz'' he crouched down infront of her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, ''Liz, look at me'' she did, her eyes slowly coming up to meet his and she suddenly felt the need to cover herself. Her open blouse practically displaying everything she has to offer and her skirt was twisted high around her legs, ''are you alright, did he hurt you?'' he asked urgently.

''Uhm, no.. He tried though, he tried to…'' she stopped. Somehow not being able to bring herself round to say 'rape'

''I know, I saw what happened shortly before you used my microscope as a weapon'' he said lightly, a slight laugh escaping as he spoke and she smiled meekly. ''… And I know he hit you, I can see his handprint white against your cheek''

She'd forgotten about that. Bringing a bloodied hand to her cheek – it felt numb. Then her body started to shake and before she knew it, her eyes were streaming with tears. Sherlock pulled her to him, holding her against his chest as her body continued to wrack with sobs. He sank even lower to the floor, adjusting his long coat so he could sit by her against the counter, Lee's motionless body within arm's reach but he didn't care.

When John came in approximately five minutes later he was hysterical to say the least. He was used to chopped up limbs lying about the place but a fresh dead body lying on the kitchen floor was a bit too much.

Sherlock explained what happened briefly and John rang the ambulance, he offered to check Liz over but she ruefully declined.

* * *

><p>Liz buckled into one of the kitchen chairs as Lee's body was taken away by paramedics.<p>

Police and all sorts of people she didn't recognise swarmed the flat. They'd taken pictures, asked questions and of course, taken Sherlock's microscope away for examining and what not.

She'd not been arrested yet so that was a good sign.

Sherlock was talking to one of the forensic officers and she'd been offered a blanket. _A blanket_. What the hell was that supposed to do, _comfort her? _

''It's for the shock apparently'' John said, sitting down beside her after seeing the look of irritation on her face as she eyed the article with disgust. She made a noise in agreement and pulled the blanket tighter around herself, at least it kept her remotely covered what with all the people swanning in and out the flat. Perhaps that was why they had given it to her.

There was a couple of awkward moments when John looked like he wanted to say something but kept swallowing his words.

''Spit it out John, you've been sat here for longer than is necessarily needed to see if I'm aright. What is it you want to tell me?''

He stuttered for a second, not really knowing how to respond to her very accurate statement.

''It's just that, well, I'm your friend, you know that…'' he hesitated at seeing the slight irritation flicker across her face as she rolled her eyes so he decided to get straight to the point, ''but, I'm also a doctor and if there's anything you want to tell me, that you feel you don't want to share with the police or, or whoever then, you know… I'm here''

The thought of the possible child inside her sprang to mind before she pushed it away, ''John, I appreciate it. I do, honestly. But there's nothing you don't know that I haven't already told the police, but thankyou''

He looked down awkwardly, fiddling with the cuff on his shirt, ''Okay, well, just checking. If there is ever anything – anything at all then you know,-''

''John'' she interrupted, ''I know''

Sherlock walked over to where they were at and stood next to Liz, his hand comforting on her shoulder and she leaned into his touch. An unspoken understanding passed between John and Liz and they remained in comfortable silence before a police officer approached them at the table,

''Mrs Holmes, if you wouldn't mind, we'd like to have a few more words… In private'' he added, giving the other two a quick glance and John immediately stood up,

''Of course, I'll just go-,''

''No that won't be necessary,'' the police officer interrupted before turning his attention back to Liz in the chair, ''Mrs Holmes, we'd like you to come down to the station''

Sherlock's face dropped,_ ''what?''_

''It's just routine, we only want to ask some questions more formally''

''What like an interview? You want to interview her? She's nearly been raped for crying out loud!'' John shouted,

''I know, and I appreciate that but it would help if we asked you these questions whilst the memories are still fresh and clear in your mind so to speak then it will help things run a lot more smoothly''

''_Smoothly?_ It's convenient for you, you mean-,''

''I'm afraid I must insist''

''John, please. Its fine'' she assured him, ''I'll be allowed to change first though, yes?''

''Of course, just let the forensics take you clothes for examination''

''Right…'' she sighed, getting up but John wasn't having it,

''Ridiculous! This is absolutely ridiculous! Sherlock tell him''

''Yes it's inconvenient but I said I'd go so quit it'' Liz snapped before Sherlock could respond. She brushed past them both to go to the bedroom and then felt the familiar hand against the small of her back,

''Don't you think you should be going to the hospital?'' Sherlock whispered quickly as they walked to their bedroom. She turned round to look at him, slightly taken aback when she saw worry etched across his face,

''What for?''

''You _know_ what for'' he replied giving her a knowing look and she huffed, hadn't she already told him she was fine? Besides, the paramedics had already insisted on giving her the once over.

''No, I told you already. I'm alright''

''But what if your-,''

''I_ know_'' she snapped, ''and I said I'm fine so will you just stop it!'' Liz slammed their bedroom door open and proceeded to find some clean clothes whilst Sherlock sat silently on their bed with his hands on his knees and watching her huff about their room grumpily.

_Bloody hormones as well._

* * *

><p>Liz returned home some hours later, tired and grouchy. They'd questioned her, asked for statements, taken fingerprints – they'd treated her like a criminal!<p>

Sherlock had gone to meet her at the station, they'd offered to drive her home via police car but she didn't want that. Sherlock wanted her to go to A&E but she didn't want that either, to be quite honest she didn't know what she wanted. Lee was gone and that was the best thing that could have happened, even better was the fact that she was the one to do it, even if the circumstances were desperate.

Considering the circumstances, she slept well that night. _Very well_ in fact.

* * *

><p>''' I O U... What does that mean?'' Liz picked up the apple and spun it round between her finger and thumb the next day.<p>

''I have no idea'' Sherlock lied; he was sat in one of the chairs with his fingertips touching and deep in thought.

''And he didn't say anything else?''

''No'' he replied quickly. Liz gave him a suspicious look before dropping the apple back on the desk. She picked up her keys and shoved them in her hand bag before strolling across the room to peck his cheek,

''I'm going now, I'll see you at eight''

''Yes… See you later'' he replied, still deep in thought about what Moriarty had said, _I owe you a fall…_

* * *

><p>Liz perched on the edge of the bath, pregnancy text in one hand, instructions in the other.<p>

Three minutes.

In three minutes she would know. The result could be life altering. She didn't know if she would be strong enough this time, to have a termination. The last time was so emotionally draining, no matter how much she tried; she did feel guilty – for a short time anyway, she didn't want to go through that again.

Liz wasn't sure how to feel either. Anxious definitely, but what about the outcome? If she was pregnant, how was she supposed to react? And if she wasn't, well that would be the end to it and she'd feel happy… Right?

How convenient.

All her previous thoughts and feelings from the former pregnancy came flooding back, although this time she felt slightly different, more… prepared in a way.

Suddenly she found herself picturing it, a child with Sherlock's dark curly hair and grey eyes – oh god. What if that's what her life was going to turn into? A miniature version of a mix between Sherlock and herself to look after and… love. _Oh god._

She wasn't ready for this; she _really_ wasn't ready for this. She didn't want to be a mother, not now and not ever!

What seemed like a hundred different scenarios raced through her mind as she stared blankly at the white stick in her hands. What if she wastes her life away? What if she dies during childbirth? What if Moriarty found out? What if it was twins? Hell, what if it was triplets!

She closed her eyes and took a slow breath, _pull yourself together Elizabeth, s_he told herself. She may not even be pregnant and she was already thinking about stretch marks and maternity pants, _oh _– she would get huge.

The seconds trickled by slowly, still two minutes to go.

On the other hand she may have had a lucky escape and she would _never_ forget to take her pill again, well either that or Sherlock was going to find himself at the hospital for a vasectomy.

Whichever way, they were not having sex until she found a fail-safe way to not get impregnated. _Oh the joy…_

Her thoughts then turned to Lee. At least he was gone now, no longer biding his time until Moriarty gave the all go and he would come looking for her again, she didn't have to worry about that… Moriarty of course was very much in the public eye at the moment, what with the breaking into the crown jewels and what not. Sherlock had been present at the court hearing, and John. She remembered John being furious with him for having to bail him out of jail for not being able to keep his mouth shut – Liz of course found it incredibly funny.

Any moment now. Soon she would remove her thumb from over the tiny window and glance down at her fate. This may very well be her last few moments that hang in the balance before either relief or... resent?

She decided to count to ten in her head before she looked and that's exactly what she did. The ten longest seconds of her life.

When she got down to one she inhaled and held her breath before removing her crimson painted nail over the end.

Two blue lines.

That was positive right? She quickly scanned over the instructions leaflet in her right hand, one blue line meant negative, two blue lines was positive. It was positive. She glanced back at the test, two blue lines. Then back to the instructions; two blue lines indicated positive pregnancy.

_Shit…_

In a way she supposed she sort of knew…

After Liz composed herself, chucked away the pregnancy test and checked her make up in the mirror – luckily no mascara had smudged, she walked into the living room where she would sit in the chair and wait for Sherlock to come home.

* * *

><p><strong>Next chapter will be the last one before epilogue.<strong>

**Please review! :D**


	9. Chapter 9

**Wrote this quickly as I want it to be finished so it's quite fast paced. Not watched this episode for a while so quotes are probably not going to be spot on as they are just from what I can remember. Enjoy :)**

_**I don't own Sherlock.**_

''How long?'' he asked,

''Three months…''

Sherlock scrubbed a hand over his face; it couldn't have been more ill-timed.

''What are we going to do?'' she asked quietly. When she'd told him, the reaction was not what she had been expecting. He was relatively calm, hardly seemed phased by it at all. It was as though she'd told him something utterly irrelevant to him that he wasn't bothered by, you never would have guessed he'd just been told his wife was inconveniently pregnant.

''Nothing'' he replied and she looked at him puzzled, ''- yet. We'll talk about it later just, don't do anything, don't tell anyone,-''

''Wait, where are you going?'' she asked when she saw he was about to put on his coat,

''I've got to go somewhere – actually come with me,'' he paused for a moment whilst tying his scarf securely round his neck, ''wait no, stay here''

He was acting quite strange, stranger than usual by his standards anyway. She'd been preparing what she had to say for ages then he had just swanned into their flat then planned on swanning back out again without so much as an opinion to their situation they had dug themselves in.

''But Sherlock-,''

''We'll talk later'' she couldn't believe he was just dismissing her like this, she'd just told him something important, probably the biggest news of their life and he couldn't even stop to talk to her or even tell her what he thinks.

''What's the matter?'' she asked rather snappily,

''Richard Brooke''

Elizabeth frowned, she'd never heard of said person, ''_Who?_''

''I don't know, that's what I'm going to find out'' he clapped his gloved hands together and spun round on his heel, fully intending to just leave there and then,

''But what about this'' he didn't face her but knew exactly what she meant – he didn't have time for this!

''I promise we'll discuss it later but for now there's somewhere I really need to go and it can't wait'' and with that he disappeared down the stairs two at a time with his coat swishing by his ankles.

* * *

><p>''That was the paramedics,'' John said panicked, ''Mrs Hudson's been shot!''<p>

Sherlock barely blinked, merely continued to think with his fingertips touching together lightly and his feet propped impolitely on one of the counters in the lab, ''you go, I'm staying here…''

John looked as though he'd been slapped before anger bubbled in his voice, ''don't you care?''

''She's just my land lady-,''

''You once almost killed a man for laying a hand on her; you know what – _never mind_. I'll go and see if she's okay and you stay here, alone.'' He huffed angrily, picking up his jacket as he headed for the door,

''Alone protects me'' Sherlock muttered, still deep in thought,

''No, _friends_ protect you''

* * *

><p>Turns out, Mrs Hudson was fine.<p>

''John?''

''Liz!''

John hopped up the stairs to the upper flat with haste, Liz was stood at the top of the stairs looking flustered, ''what are you doing here,'' she asked, ''thought you were with Sherlock?''

''Yeah well,'' John said sharply, ''he's being a bit of a dick at the moment, wanted to be alone''

''Ah…''

''Seriously Liz, and I'm being honest now. I don't know how you put up with that man, he's just… urgh! I'm not even gonna waste my breath on him'' John leant against the wall, thankful of the support. He'd ran all the way from St Barts, unable to get a cab and this was the first opportunity he'd had to catch his breath.

''That bad huh?''

''You've no idea, you know I told him Mrs Hudson had been shot – he didn't so much as bat an eyelid''

''But, Mrs Hudson's downstairs,'' Liz said, ''I've just spoken to her. She's got a builder in, something to do with the electrics I don't know…'' she trailed off, realisation dawning over both their faces. ''who told you she'd been shot?''

John's face seemed to rearrange from confusion to slight understanding in about three seconds, ''the paramedics…''

* * *

><p>They both bolted down the stairs and into a cab, Liz managed to pull on her coat in the rush and said a hurried goodbye to Mrs Hudson.<p>

The cab journey to St Barts seemed to take forever and John was repeatedly trying to call Sherlock's phone, with no luck up to now. When he did finally get through, they'd already got out of the cab were both hurrying across the road.

''Sherlock, where are you''

''Go back'' was the stony response,

''What?'' He and Liz continued to dash across the main road, not really paying attention if there was any traffic,

''_Go back_,'' Sherlock insisted, ''just turn round and walk back the way you came''

''Okay, okay'' John stopped to turn round and Liz followed, confused

''Right, look up, I'm up here. On the roof''

''Wha..'' they both looked up slowly, their eyes travelling up the hospital wall to see Sherlock stood on the edge of the tall building, his long black coat billowing in the wind.

Liz's breath hitched and John felt the presence of her hand on his arm,

''Keep your eyes focussed on me. I can't, I can't come down so we'll just have to do it here'' his voice cracked and John felt the immediate feeling of dread drop in the pit of his stomach.

''Do what? Sherlock what are you talking about?''

''My note'' he said simply, ignoring the tears that tracked down his cheeks, ''it's what they do, isn't it?''

''Your note…'' John breathed and Liz snapped her gaze to him, not quite believing what she had just heard,

''It's all true you know, what they said in the papers-,''

''No, Sherlock'' John shook his head but Sherlock just chucked mirthlessly,

''I'm a fake'' he sniffed

''What's he talking about?'' Liz asked urgently and John just shook his head dejected. On the other end of the phone Sherlock grimaced.

''Look after her John, take care of her for me'' he looked down at his wife, his pregnant wife. He assumed she'd keep it this time. ''Put her on will you''

John did and handed the phone to Liz, she took it quickly and placed it to her ear, ''Sherlock, what are you doing, come down''

''I can't, you see'' he sniffed, ''I thought I told you to stay at home?''

Liz scraped a hand through her hair, it was flying all over the place and getting in the way of her view of him, ''what, so you could chuck yourself off a building?''

''I'm sorry Elizabeth''

''No'' she almost cried, ''don't do this to me, you come down here – now Sherlock''

He laughed despite the tears rolling down his cheeks, ''this is goodbye''

Her heart was hammering in her chest now, pounding against her ribs, ''stop it!''

''There's something I didn't tell you very often,'' he carried on, ''something I should have said every day from the moment I met you'' he stopped and smiled down at her tearfully, ''I love you so much''

''Don't…''

''I've never stopped loving you, don't forget me will you?''

''As if I could'' she said quietly and realised that he really wasn't going to come down... Well not safely anyhow. ''I love you'' she chocked and John gulped beside her. This really was it.

Sherlock smiled one last time before dropping the phone down beside him and took a deep breath. On the street, Liz still held John's mobile to her ear with a trembling hand and held on to John's arm with the other and they watched in dread as Sherlock opened his arms and fell forwards.

* * *

><p>He hit the floor in a matter of seconds. Liz screamed as his body slammed into the pavement with a sickening crack, she registered John's arms slip round her waist tightly as her knees threatened to give way.<p>

John lunged forwards, dragging Liz by the hand as he did to the body of his friend. His _best_ friend.

When they reached him (and after John being hit by a cyclist) it was the most heart stopping sight. Sherlock lay there, limbs bent at odd angles, face down and blood pooling around him – staining the dull concrete pavement a rusty crimson colour.

People started gathering round, all gasping and calling for help, some of them even had their mobiles out. They pushed their way through, not bothering to say sorry to those who they bumped into.

''Oh…''

''God, no…''

Liz felt someone grab her and pull her back, she looked round and apparently the same had happened to John whose legs seemed to have given way and he was on the floor. ''he's my friend, please, I'm a doctor'' she heard him say but when she tried to speak the words just wouldn't come. She allowed herself to be lowered to the floor before she collapsed, the wetness from the pavement soaking through her dark jeans at the knees.

Someone turned him over and she clapped a hand to her mouth as she gasped a sob. His grey eyes were wide and pale – empty and his thick brown hair was plastered to his face with blood.

She tried to get closer, to touch him but she couldn't. The paramedics rushed from the hospital with a stretcher, they hurriedly picked him up and rushed back inside, people followed them and still gathered round.

Liz knelt still on the floor, all she could see what his black coat and pale skin as they took her husband away.

John looked as though he was about to vomit, he too was knelt on the floor, looking pasty and withdrawn.

It started to rain.

* * *

><p>''You'll get through this, my dear''<p>

She said nothing, only sobbed into Mycroft's shoulder. They'd never once made physical contact on such a level but when he came to visit her that evening, the first thing he did was prop his umbrella against the wall and embrace her.

They'd stood there for a while now, she's blurted out that she was pregnant whilst he just patted her back somewhat uneasily ''oh god…'' she chocked, the wetness from her tears dampening her brother-in-law's expensive suit jacket.

''You'll cope'' he hushed, ''I know you Elizabeth, you're strong minded''

She straightened in his arms and looked up at him through puffy eyes ''and what about this child? It's going to grow up without a father and look at me, I'm hardly parent material myself''

''You're going to keep this one then'' he asked seriously and she nodded. How could she not? The one last thing she had of Sherlock that _really_ meant something, that was _alive_.

She sniffed and pulled back, Mycroft was right; apparently a good cry was what she needed. Damn hormones.

''Have you decided what you're going to do?''

''No,'' she admitted, ''I don't know where to start, when I came back to the flat…'' she trailed off and swallowed hard, ''there's just so much that belongs to him''

Mycroft nodded once in understanding, ''have you thought anything about the funeral at all?''

The funeral. Oh god. _The funeral._ It just makes it seem so… official. Sherlock Holmes – officially deceased.

He took the silence as a no, ''I'm sure we can arrange something together''

She wiped her eyes hastily on her cardigan sleeve, ''thankyou but-,''

''No buts'' he insisted. Liz knew Sherlock wouldn't approve of Mycroft helping with his funeral, she could imagine him now, _''well of course he would to piss me off''_ she couldn't help but chuckle at that. Although she'd never actually hear him say it.

* * *

><p>Liz straightened her collar in the mirror; she wore a smart black, just above the knee length dress with a pair of plain black heels, black tights and long-ish charcoal coat. The only thing that wasn't black or grey was her nail varnish which was a change from its normal customary red, instead a soft natural pink.<p>

Her dark hair was pinned up and out of the way, she couldn't be bothered with it. The stress of the funeral paired with the pregnancy symptoms which had started taking their toll had made her tired and unwell. Nearing her fifth month of pregnancy she now had a round bump, quite noticeable but then to the people that didn't know, they might just assume that she'd put weight on and seen as only Mycroft, John and Mrs Hudson knew, that left a lot of people to guess whether she was pregnant or just fat.

She let out a long sigh; in the reflection of the mirror she could see the opposite wall where Sherlock would put bullets through when he was bored – Mrs Hudson never did add it to the rent. Then of course there was the skull, Liz never liked it much but she wouldn't chuck it away – perhaps she'd hide it. Although she'd never tell John it was for sentimental value, nothing must register on an emotional scale. God she was even thinking like him…

As soon as the funeral was over and done with and Sherlock's belongings had been sorted through, she would move out. Get a new flat, start a fresh. 221 held too many memories, good and bad. Of course she'll have the support of John, Mycroft, even Mrs Hudson but she wanted to do this by herself – she wasn't helpless.

''You ready?'' John asked from somewhere behind her, she turned round, Mrs Hudson was stood in the doorway looking thoroughly solemn but she managed a small smile none the less.

''Ready as I'll ever be…''

Liz walked over to the desk to pick up her bag; a cab was waiting for them outside. When she turned back round she noticed John and Mrs Hudson exchange a nervous glace before he looked back in her direction hesitantly, ''Mycroft isn't coming'' he blurted out.

She wasn't in the least bit surprised, ''I expected as much…''

''You're not bothered?'' Mrs Hudson asked, clutching a white hanky in her left hand as she did,

''It's up to him, if he doesn't want to come then I can't make him can I?''

''I suppose not, but his own brother's funeral. I mean, you'd think he'd make the effort…'' she stopped when she saw Liz sigh impatiently,

''Sorry,'' Liz apologised almost immediately afterwards, ''these bloody hormones…''

''It's alright dear, understandable given the circumstances''

Liz just smiled, grateful that she wasn't going to press the Mycroft issue further, ''let's get it over with then shall we?'' with that she brushed past them both and down the stairs.

The cab journey was silent. Mrs Hudson was sat in the middle of them both, each of them staring in different directions. The ceremony was a quite affair, kept only to those people that really knew him, but then again, did anyone _really _know Sherlock Holmes?

Molly was there, constantly sobbing into a tissue next to Lestrade who looked just as miserable. It's funny; perhaps people really did care… Even Sally and Anderson made their appearance as well as a handful of other people from Scotland Yard. Angelo from the small cafe, Sarah who Liz said she had no problem with being invited despite only meeting Sherlock a few times as well as a few other people. All in all it was a pretty private send off.

During the service, Liz had not shed a tear once – not once. She'd been crying all bloody week and now it appeared she had none left to shed. It wasn't until the end when she found herself stood infront of her husband's grave did she feel them slide down her face.

_Sherlock Holmes_

- The black marble read. No dates, no commiserations, no fuss – just 'Sherlock Holmes' in bold gold letters.

She leant down with increasing difficulty to place a wreath against the headstone, white roses. Mrs Hudson had arranged the flowers, John had helped her with the actual funeral part and Mycroft had insisted on helping with the financials as well as paying off some of their debts after oh so helpfully informing her about the expenses of having a little one on the way. Of course he had offered to help her out in any way he could once he or she was born but Liz had insisted that she would be able to manage and would inform him if she came to any difficulty.

The three of them stood there quietly, except for the odd sniffle from Mrs Hudson. You never think it will happen, the ones you love and value the most will one day be gone – no matter how cruel the circumstances. The over used saying _'you never know what you've got 'till it's gone_' never rang so true.

John and Mrs Hudson both had a moment in which they said something what they thought was relevant, something good about the dead man whose grave rested infront of them before they decided to give Elizabeth some discretion, to say what she wanted – if anything at all.

''We'll wait by the car'' John patted her on the shoulder; she nodded once, not taking her gaze away from the dark marble infront of her.

She took comfort in the only thing she could – the child that was growing inside her, a part of them both that would no doubt grow up with his eyes or her hair, god forbid if he or she inherited Sherlock's arrogance.

She smiled fondly, she'd never once in a million years pictured herself as a mother – she still didn't want to believe it but it was true. It was going to happen and this time, as much as she might regret it, she didn't want to stop it from happening either.

Nearly three weeks ago she had told him that he was going to be a father, three weeks ago he had informed her they would discuss it later. Later never came.

With a heavy sigh Liz pulled the sash round her middle more securely, it was a crisp autumn afternoon and the breeze ruffled her coat, the ground was soft and her heels sunk a little when she walked. She'd be coming here often she expected. On his birthday or Christmas, their wedding anniversary or the anniversary of his death… Whenever she felt like she wanted to… Would she bring their child here? She anticipated so when he or she was old enough to understand…

* * *

><p>Somewhere hidden from view in the graveyard, Sherlock watched his wife mourn his death. He saw that her stomach had swelled with his child, only a little visible beneath her coat but enough for him to notice. Dark circles under her eyes told him she had not been sleeping well, the flush in her cheeks, the wind blowing her hair loosely out of its confinements and how she still wore her wedding ring proudly on her manicured finger – yes he noticed her not usual choice of nail varnish too.<p>

He stood there simply observing and he almost forgot he was not allowed to be seen. He could see his friend and his landlady stood by the church talking quietly whilst they spared quick glances at Liz who had her back to them.

With one last goodbye, Liz turned round and started walking back across the grass. Sherlock subtly leaned backwards only slightly as to avoid being seen but he secretly wished she would look in his direction. Silently willing her to shift her gaze further to the left but she never did.

Sherlock had never felt more alone.

* * *

><p><strong>Not keen on the 'I love you' part near the beginning, purely because I think they can come across as cheesy but hopefully this is not the case. Also, kind of depressed myself writing this so leave some reviews to cheer me up and write the epilogue quicker *hint hint* ;D<strong>


	10. Epilogue

**So here is the last chapter :)**

_**I don't own Sherlock.**_

Four months later and Liz had moved out of 221b, as had John. However, a lot of her belongings still remained in the flat that she hadn't sorted through yet and probably still wouldn't until after the baby was born.

John had moved in with Sarah and the two of them were quite happy living together in Sarah's flat, he and Liz still remained close friends and he visited often as did Mrs Hudson on occasion. Mycroft was as interfering as ever but she couldn't deny feeling some gratitude towards the elder Holmes brother. He had been a huge support after Sherlock's death and had taken care of all the paperwork and administrations that needed to be dealt with.

It was now 2:36 in the afternoon and today Liz had decided on decorating the second bedroom as a nursery. Pale pink.

She was going to have a girl, a daughter in little over a month and almost everything was ready except her room. There was so much stuff babies needed that half of it Liz hadn't even thought about until recently; clothes, bibs, nappies, dummies, bottles, blankets, a crib, a pram then there was the mobile thing that hung over the cot, bottle warmers, changing mats, top and tail bowl, sleeping suits and then when she grew into a toddler she'd need toys and more clothes… It was all so daunting to Liz but at least it was all bought now, all she needed to do was finish off painting the nursery and everything would be finished.

Oh! And she needed a name. Liz still hadn't thought of one yet much to Mycroft's intolerance, Sherlock's mother wanted her to be named after her but Liz didn't fancy naming their daughter Violet. No offence but she would prefer for her to have a more regular name and one that particularly wasn't named after a flower.

Liz groaned. She had just finished the last wall and her back was protesting profoundly, she carefully got down off the step ladder and placed the paint roller back in the tray. She could have paid for someone to do it but seen as she had been idle for the past few months she could think of nothing better to do.

She really was quite big now. It was difficult to do the simplest of tasks that she would of otherwise found easy such as picking up the television remote, bending to reach under the sink – shaving had become particularly difficult.

With a huff she smoothed a stray piece of hair away from her face, smudging paint across her forehead as she did and walked to the kitchen, intending to brew herself a much needed coffee.

She was wearing a large blue shirt, one of Sherlock's many years ago and one of the few things she had brought with her that had belonged to him. A pair of black leggings that made her arse look massive but who cared, they were comfortable. Her hair, arms and face were speckled with paint as well as on her clothes; she was in dire need of a shower but it would have to wait – coffee was more important.

She'd just poured herself a steaming mug when the door knocked loudly downstairs. _Great. Just what I need. _She thought. She found herself getting more irritated easily as well, the slightest thing would make her want to laugh or cry and the effect it was having on her body was exhausting.

Liz angrily slammed the cup down on the counter and made for the stairs, mentally preparing a scolding for whoever was on the other side. The door knocked again, this time more urgently but she couldn't waddle down the stairs any quicker.

''Calm down, I'm coming!'' she called, trying to keep the irritation at a minimum. Who could possibly be calling at this time?

She reached the hallway, grabbed hold of the handle and yanked the door open, ''no need to be so impat…ient'' the word died on her lips.

At first she thought she must have been hallucinating or something because Sherlock Holmes was stood on her doorstep, wearing his long black coat and blue scarf with that _proud_ look on his face.

She promptly slapped him.

* * *

><p>''I still don't understand why you felt the need to try and inflict injury on me'' he said, flexing his jaw and rubbing his hand over the stinging flesh.<p>

Liz merely glared at him from where she was sat, ''I _still_ don't understand why you felt the need to fake your own death then let me believe you were dead for months'' her voice had steadily risen in their discussion. He'd already explained everything that happened on the rooftop with Moriarty, what would have happened if he didn't jump...

''I've told you, it was the only way''

Liz remained silent. She was tired and annoyed – two things that didn't mix well, especially when you were nearing your eighth month of pregnancy.

When Sherlock had appeared on her doorstep an hour ago, she hadn't known what to do, what to feel, how to react… Slapping him had been her first instinct upon seeing him after all this time.

He'd left her by herself for _months,_ pregnant and very much alone believing that she had become a widow at the age of 32; she was certainly not going to get over the fact that he was very much _alive_ anytime soon.

''What changed?'' she said quietly,

''I beg your pardon?''

''What made you come back?''

He glanced around the flat, taking in his surroundings and what had been hers for the past months, it was about the same size as 221b, light, airy, she hadn't decorated in here yet though– the current wallpaper wasn't her taste and it had clearly been up longer than she had been living here, years even. ''what made you leave Baker street? It was-,''

''_Sherlock_, you're not answering me''

He turned to look her in the eye, the corners of his lips tugging upwards in a smile, ''I thought that would have been obvious'' she remained still, suddenly feeling exposed as his gaze raked over her body. ''A girl'' he said after inspecting the pink paint smudged across her forehead and dotted across her skin, the smile slowly spreading wider across his face.

''Yeah…'' she's fighting the urge to either hug him or hit him… Again. When all comes to all she hugs him – tightly, and doesn't ever want to let go. She wants to tell him off for leaving her all this time, she wants to slap him for putting her through all that grief and misery but most of all she wants to love him. To _make_ love to him, over and over for all the time they've lost.

There's no Lee, there's no Moriarty.

''Don't ever leave me like that again…'' her voice is muffled by his shoulder and it's difficult because of her growing stomach but she clings to him anyway.

Sherlock smooth's a hand over her tied up hair and presses his lips firmly to her head, ''I won't''

* * *

><p>The weeks go by and they move back into Baker Street. Mrs Hudson is delighted, 'oh to have a baby in the house!' she had squealed.<p>

They invite John to move back in but he politely declines, things are going so well with Sarah that they decided on purchasing their own flat, somewhere for them together. And anyway, space was going to be one thing they would need in 221b with a new baby.

Mycroft is as intrusive as ever but he means well, he visits more often, much to the dismay of Sherlock but what with him continuing with cases and pissing off the police, Liz enjoys the company.

''Do you regret it?'' he asks one night, he's sat upright on the sofa and she's lay across his lap. It was her due date four days ago and she can't wait for the whole bloody thing to be over with.

''No,'' she says hoarsely, her eyes are still closed and she shifts as their baby stirs inside her. ''I know I couldn't have managed the last time, I didn't want to believe it but now…'' she can't find the words but he knows what she means, ''I'm glad. Pity you missed out on the morning sickness though'' she adds with a smirk, but it's immediately wiped off her face at his next words;

''We'll, you never know… I might stick around the next time'' she can't tell if he's joking so snaps her eyes open to see him looking down at her with a smug grin plastered across his face and he starts to shake with laughter at the look of horror she is displaying.

''I don't think so, I'd appreciate it if there _wasn't_ a next time thankyou very much'' she gritted out but she's smiling too.

That night they go to bed early, they show how much they love each other and the following morning her waters brake.

When their daughter is born they call her Lucy.

* * *

><p><strong>Well, there it is! Hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. It would mean a lot if you could take a moment to review – First completed story ever! <strong>

**Thanks to those who have stuck with me, favourited/alerted/reviewed, would never have continued if you didn't. **

**_ Aimee :D**


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